


A Million Stars Above You

by QueenOfAllCorgis



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Getting Together, Hospitals, M/M, Obsession, Panic Attacks, Pining, Slow Burn, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:12:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 57,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfAllCorgis/pseuds/QueenOfAllCorgis
Summary: Roger is attacked and badly injured by an obsessed stalker and everyone has to deal with the aftermath. It's a very difficult road.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first Queen fic! I pictured the BoRap boys while writing this out. The title is from Brian's beautiful song Long Away.
> 
> This story was inspired by the attack on Theresa Saldana. It will follow the attack, the aftermath, and the healing. It's going to be tough and intense but the boys will be there for each other.

Brian wasn’t looking when it happened.

They had finished their show, relishing in the cheers and screams. It was always a bit of a rush to realize people were cheering for them, something Brian still found a bit unbelievable. He couldn’t believe that people wanted to come see him play, that people knew his name. 

Cameras flashed as they made their way backstage. The small crowd of reporters hovered around them and he tried to smile at them, a bit distracted by the buzzing still in his head. Freddie was shouting out ridiculous answers to their questions and he was in the middle of laughing when the first scream rang out. 

It was like his brain took in pieces of what was happening without putting it together. 

He saw the large man with his left arm wrapped tightly around Roger’s neck.

He saw the way Roger kicked and hit at him frantically.

He saw the red seeping through his white shirt.

He saw the bright gleam of the knife as it slammed repeatedly into Roger.

No one moved. Maybe they were all like Brian, completely frozen by the scene in front of them. He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening. It all seemed too outlandish to be true.

“God!” Roger’s raspy cry rang through the narrow hallway. “God! Stop! Stop!”

That spurred the world into motion. A camera man tackled the man and Roger stumbled a few steps before falling to his knees. Roger’s attacker let out an angry shout, but the knife clattered to the ground and a few other people helped wrestle him to the floor. 

Brian felt his legs move without even thinking about it. He staggered forward and dropped down at Roger’s side. The blond was shaking as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Then, Roger’s hand slipped underneath himself and Brian caught sight of the growing pool of red on the floor.

“Oh my God,” the words slipped past his lips, ice running through his veins. 

Then John and Freddie were by his side as well. John had gone completely white, eyes wider than Brian had ever seen them. Freddie was clearly trying to remain calm, but his hands shook so badly he had to twist them into his shirt.

“You’re alright darling,” Freddie soothed when no one else could speak. “Let’s just get you lying down yeah?”

Roger was already sagging a bit in their hold as they managed to get him lying down. The icy feeling got ten times worse when Brian was finally able to get a good look at him. The white oversized shirt was completely red with blood and more was spilling from the holes and rips. A panicked thought of I didn’t know there was that much blood in a person’s body rushed through Brian’s mind.

“It…’rts,” the bond managed to gasp out. His breath was coming in short painful sounding bursts and the color was rapidly leaching from his face.

“You’re fine,” Brian didn’t know where the words came from as he grabbed Roger’s hand. There were several long, deep gashes in his arm as well. “Hear me Roger? You’re just fine.”

A stagehand appeared with what looked like a mountain of towels. Freddie grabbed one and pressed it hard onto Roger’s chest, making him cry out and arch. John quickly copied the motion and shot a glance to Brian. 

“Paramedics are on their way,” someone called out, but all Brian could focus on was Roger’s hand in his. 

“See? Help is almost here,” he gave the younger man a wobbly smile. Roger stared up at him, shock clear in his hazy eyes. He shook constantly and his fingers twitched in Brian’s grip.

“I’m dying,” he wheezed out. Freddie winced violently at that and pressed down harder on the almost purely red towel. “I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying.”

“Now you stop that right now you dramatic idiot,” their frontman snapped. “You’re going to be fine.”

Brian nodded frantically. The dazed rambling thankfully came to an end but it was replaced by deep, wet coughs. Blood spotted Roger’s too pale lips and one bad cough led to a line of blood running down his chin.

“Fuck,” John whimpered, grabbing another towel to press to Roger’s middle. Freddie seemed to almost force himself to look away from their drummer’s face.

“You are just fine Rog,” Brian wiped shaky fingers across his chin, clearing away the blood. 

Glazed blue eyes drifted up to lock onto his. Roger’s lips were now slightly blue but the rest of him was horribly colorless. He was slipping away. The realization hit Brian like a train and he pulled Roger’s hand to his chest. 

“It hurts so bad,” the words came out at barely a whisper, more blood gathering at the corners of his mouth. “Fuck…fuck…I…I don’t want to die. Brian…please…I don’t…don’t leave.”

Tears gathered in Brian’s eyes but he refused to let them fall. He shushed Roger gently, squeezing Roger’s hand to his own chest. With his other hand he cupped the other man’s face and softly traced his thumb along his cheekbone. 

He was saved from responding by the arrival of the paramedics. A kind looking young woman ushered them away but Brian stayed where he was, gripping Roger’s hand tightly. 

They spoke quickly to each other, voices getting slightly frantic as they looked at Roger in more detail. It seemed almost like no time at all before they were getting him onto the gurney and strapping an oxygen mask onto his face.

“Sir,” the paramedic who had pulled Freddie and John to the side placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, you have to let go. They’re going to take good care of your friend.”

It was honestly the hardest thing Brian had ever done in his life. As his grip loosened Roger’s eyes flew open and he started shaking his head. His breathing quickened and his hand flailed a bit in the air.

“No…no,” his voice was muffled by the mask. “Brian…wait.”

“It’ll be alright mate,” a paramedic smiled as they started pushing him down the hall. 

Brian started following him but Miami jumped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest to stop his movement. “We’ll go to the hospital. Let them take care of him.”

With the gurney now gone everything felt like a dream. He hadn’t noticed the reporters forced out by security or the almost deathly silence in the hall. The only thing still tying him to reality was the huge smear of blood on the concrete in front of him.

Freddie seemed to explode into nervous energy. He practically hopped up and down, waving frantically. “Now! Let’s go now! Jesus Christ, what are we waiting for?”

“Stop,” thankfully Miami was able to remain calm. “It’s not going to help if he sees you falling apart. Go change and catch your breath. We’ll go to the hospital but…panicking is not going to help anyone.”

“So you want us to get into new outfits?” Freddie seethed. “I don’t care if we have to sit in the waiting room with our stage clothes on!”

“But he’s not going to want to see you covered in his blood,” the bluntness in his voice stole Brian’s breath for a moment and he looked down.

The flowy white bell sleeves on his shirt were completely stained with blood. There were smears along his chest and collar where Roger’s hand had rested. Nausea rose in his throat and he swallowed frantically. The three men paused before making their way to the large shared dressing room. 

The true weight of what had happened seemed to crash over John the moment the door closed and he burst into sobs. Freddie sat down heavily on the couch, looking dazed and lost. His dark eyes drifted around the room, resting on Roger’s jacket resting on the back of a chair.

“What the fuck happened?” He whispered and Brian shook his head, fighting his own tears. 

“I…I was right in front of him…” he managed to choke out. “I was right in front of him and did nothing.”

Christ. There it was. He had watched as Roger was repeatedly stabbed by…who even was the man? Was he an angry husband from some floozy Roger had seduced? Was he jealous of his talent? Was he just completely psychotic? Where even was he at that moment?

He felt almost feverish and ripped off his shirt, hating the feeling of the drying blood making the fabric stiff. His chest heaved with deep breaths and he realized he was falling into a panic attack. Shakily, Brian lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the wall. Heavy, shaking sobs wracked his body and he felt like his body might just fall apart.

“Hey,” John sat on the floor next to him, placing a hand on his leg. The smaller man was still crying but he wiped at his eyes and rubbed Brian’s back. “Hey, breathe. Come on Brian, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” Brian choked out. “He…he begged me not to leave and…he was so scared and I didn’t say anything to him. I couldn’t.”

God, what would he have said? What could he have said to a man that was practically dying in front of him?

Thank you for being my best friend.

God, please don’t go.

I can’t imagine living in a world without you.

I think I fell in love with you a long time ago. I’m sorry for never saying anything. I’m sorry for the time I wasted. I was a coward.

But he didn’t say those things. He had stayed quiet. 

“Let’s get changed then,” Freddie clapped his hands, startling Brian into looking up. “And then you can tell him everything you didn’t get to say.”

There was a heavy weight to those words and Freddie gave him a long, knowing look. Brian closed his eyes briefly before pushing himself onto shaky legs. He felt exhausted, like he had aged twenty years. Taking in a deep breath, Brian grabbed a shirt from his bag and tugged it on.

“Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

It felt like he had been in the waiting room for years. 

Brian honestly didn’t know how long he had been there. It was long enough for his ass to go numb in the hard plastic chairs. It was long enough for his shit coffee to go cold where it sat untouched. It was long enough for the boring talk show droning on the television in the corner to change to two more boring talk shows. 

They were lucky enough to get a private waiting room, something Brian was very thankful for. He knew that paparazzi and reporters were camped outside and he didn’t think he could handle facing the press. John had pressed several chairs together and laid across them, falling asleep with his jacket over him. Freddie had flipped through the same magazine a million times. Brian just stared at the door, waiting for someone to come in and give them an update.

“I called him an idiot,” he jumped at Freddie’s voice and turned to meet his tired eyes. “The last thing I said to him was that he was being an idiot.”

“Fred…”

“If he dies…that would be the last thing he heard me say,” Freddie’s brow creased but no tears came. They had done their fair share of crying earlier and now they were too tired to even dream of it. 

“He’s not going to die,” John spoke up, staring at them from where he lay on the chairs. “And you call him an idiot all the time. It probably calmed him down you know.”

A small smile quirked up Freddie’s lips. “Remember that time he broke every plate we had because he was pissed that they kept getting water spots?”

“Or the time when he tried to convince us it would be a good idea to play the drums with spatulas because it would ‘create a new sound’?” John added, grinning. “It did create a new sound and it was horrible.”

“He does act like a right idiot most times,” Freddie laughed and Brian felt his throat go tight. 

“And he’ll be an idiot for a long time,” John gave Brian a warm smile. 

He knew what his friends were doing and was incredibly grateful for it. They continued to share stories, laughing softly as they spoke. Brian just let his friend’s voices wash over him and leaned back, closing his eyes. 

The exhaustion instantly vanished when the door opened and they all scrambled to their feet. Even though Brian had been waiting for this exact moment for hours he was struck by an overwhelming sensation of fear.

“You are friends of Mr. Taylor I suppose? I recognize you from the papers,” the middle-aged doctor had warm eyes with laugh lines surrounding them. “I am Dr. Matthews. I am handling his case.”

“Yes, how is he?” Freddie blurted out and Brian nodded, wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

“Your friend is incredibly lucky,” at that Brian felt his knees buckle a bit. Roger was alive. He was alive. “He suffered from eight stab wounds and lost a lot of blood.”

“But he’s going to be okay right?” John’s voice shook.

“Let’s take a seat why don’t we,” the doctor continued, and the dread returned. They all silently sat down, and Brian felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. “The wounds Mr. Taylor received are very severe. Most dangerously are the five stabs to his chest and abdomen. Two stabs entered his lung and caused it to collapse. We were able to reinflate his lung and stop the bleeding.

Now, the other stabs caused damage to his stomach and liver. We had to open him up and repair the damage. We managed to stop the bleeding, but we will have to wait and see how he responds. These next twenty-four hours are critical.”

“He can still die?” Freddie whispered.

“I won’t lie to you,” Dr. Matthews sighed. “We did everything we could but that is still a possibility. His injuries are extensive. I do promise you that we will do absolutely everything we can.”

Brian dropped his head into his hands and let out a long breath. He felt sick at the idea of Roger laying on a table with people cutting into him. He could have gone through all of this and it might not have even mattered. 

“Can we see him?” He finally managed to whisper, and the doctor fixed him with a look. 

“He’s in the ICU. Unfortunately, we can only allow one person at a time and it can’t be for very long,” Dr. Matthews glanced between the men.

“Brian should go,” John spoke up.

“What?” He froze, staring at the younger man. Part of him was desperate to see Roger but part of him was absolutely terrified. 

Freddie nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay Brian. You need to go, it has to be you. We’ll…we can talk about it later.”

He sucked in a short breath and stood, giving his friends a grateful look. The walk to the room seemed to take forever. It could have even been on the other side of the world for all he knew. When they got the room, Brian felt like his feet had turned to lead. 

“Mr. Taylor is attached to multiple machines. I just want to prepare you for what you are going to see as it can be quite upsetting,” Brian swallowed and nodded. “He is on a ventilator until he is able to breathe on his own. I can promise you that he is not in any pain right now though.”

Even before he stepped through the door, he could hear the hiss of the ventilator and almost lost it right there. His own breathing felt shallow and tight. Brian twisted his now sweaty hands in his shirt and stepped in.

Every thought in his head vanished when he saw Roger lying in that bed. He looked unbelievably small swaddled with blankets. At first he didn’t even look that bad. He was a bit pale but he just looked like he was sleeping, long lashes fanned over his cheekbones.

Then Brian caught sight of the tube running from his lips, taped into place. It looked horrifically out of place. He swallowed heavily and let his eyes drift down, taking in the thick bandages on his chest and his arm. 

“Christ,” he breathed and slowly sat in a chair by his bedside. Brian’s hands fluttered by Roger’s uninjured arm, but he hesitated to touch him.

“You can,” Dr. Matthews said from where he was checking a screen. “It won’t hurt him. Studies have shown that touch has healing properties.”

He tried so hard to keep his hands from shaking as he carefully took Roger’s hand in his own. His skin was cool and the scrapes from their show just hours ago were rough. 

“I’ll leave you for a few minutes. Press the call button if you need anything,” the doctor slipped out of the room and left Brian alone.

Brian sat perfectly still, just staring at the young man on the bed. His chest rose and fell shakily but it was still rising and falling. Carefully, so so carefully, he threaded his fingers through Rogers and pulled his hand to his chest. 

“I’m…I’m sorry Rog,” he breathed and felt tears gather in his eyes. He was too tired to be surprised that he even had tears left. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I should have…I just watched as he hurt you and didn’t do anything. I’m a fucking coward and I…I’m so sorry.”

Tears trickled down his cheeks and dotted the sheets. As carefully as he could Brian reached over to smooth down the blond hair and then trailed his fingers along the side of his face. It wasn’t right for Roger to be so still. He was an almost constant tornado of energy, always bouncing around and talking. It was so wrong that he lay there still and silent. 

“Remember…remember when you auditioned for Smile?” Brian whispered, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. “We had heard maybe…three drummers before you and they were all shit. I had a headache and Tim was whining like crazy. We almost bailed on you but you strode in with so much confidence that we couldn’t dream of leaving. 

Then you played and…fuck it took my breath away. You were so goddamn beautiful. The way your hands flew across the kit just…and you weren’t even surprised when we asked you to join. It was obvious we couldn’t do better. And…and we went to the pub afterwards but Tim ditched us…I realized how funny and clever you were. I…fell in love with you that night. How could I not?”

He closed his eyes and pressed their hands to his forehead. This was all wrong. He should be looking into Roger’s eyes as he said this, not mumbling to him while he was unconscious. Hell, he should have done it so long ago. There might not be another chance if Roger…no…he couldn’t think like that.

“You have to wake up,” he choked out, pleading softly. “Please Roger…you have to. I can’t imagine this world without you in it. The…the light would go out and the music would fade. Give me a chance to tell you how I feel. Please Roger…please.”

All he heard in response was silence and the hiss of the ventilator.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger wakes up and doesn't quite respond like they had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the amazing response! Y'all are all being so kind! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

This wasn’t a bad place to be.

Roger felt almost like he was floating. His body felt both weightless and incredibly heavy at the same time but it was a comforting feeling. Almost as comforting as the warm hand gripping his own.

He could feel himself waking up, slowly drifting towards awareness, and he dreaded it. He wanted to stay in this warm, comfortable place for as long as he could. He wanted to stay here with those gentle touches through his hair and along the sides of his face.

“Roger?” A soft voice broke through the fog. “Rog? Are you waking up?”

More sounds became clear. He could make out other voices, footsteps and the beeping of machines. Other sensations became more obvious as well. Cool, medicinal smelling air was flowing into his nose and making his throat feel dry. Something was wrapped around his chest and arm, feeling heavy and oppressive. 

Slowly, Roger blinked open his eyes and then slammed them shut against the harsh light. He let out a groan and the people around him got a bit more excitable. 

“That’s it Rog!” The voice sounded so happy. “It’s Brian. I’m here, it’s okay.”

Brian.

Brian was here.

Roger redoubled his efforts to open his eyes and was rewarded by a teary eyed Brian grinning down at him. What in the hell had happened? Where was he? Before he could open his mouth to ask a straw was pressed to his lips. Roger sipped at the water automatically and moaned as it soothed his sore throat.

“Son, open you eyes for me,” someone shone a light in his eyes which hurt like a bitch. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Ro…Roger Taylor,” his voice croaked out and Brian squeezed his hand again. 

“Good,” the man leaned back and Roger was able to take in his white coat. “Do you remember what happened?”

What happened? What happened was he was in a too bright room with a too emotional Brian May holding onto his hand like he would drift away without it. None of it made any sense to his muddled brain and he glanced around to try to get any clues.

The thick bandages on his arm caught his attention and he looked down to see similar bandages wrapped around his torso. The confusion began to seep away and the pain began to sink in as flashes came back to him.

The surprise as the man wrapped his arm around his throat.

The initial pain of the knife piercing his chest and stealing his breath.

The way he tried desperately to get away but with every twist he made one more stab entered his body.

The way he had stared up into his friend’s horrified face as his life flowed out of him.

“Roger,” Brian’s voice broke through the haze and he felt like everything suddenly went way too sharp. “Just breathe. You’re okay. You’re safe now. I promise you’re safe.”

The panicked breaths lit his chest on fire and he let out a choked cry of pain. Everything hurt and he could feel tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. Brian continued to whisper encouragements, stroking the back of his hand with his thumb.

“I’ve upped your pain medications,” the doctor said gently. “You might feel sleepy.”

“See Rog, it’ll be alright,” Brian assured him. 

It felt like forever before the pain started to lessen and he sagged back into the pillows, exhausted. “What happened? Where is…where is he?”

“He’s in prison. He can rot in hell for all I care,” Brian spat, his grip tightening. “You’re safe here.”

Roger closed his eyes and nodded. The fear he knew he should be feeling was muted by the medication now flowing through his veins. He felt that same pull into unconsciousness and knew he wouldn’t be awake for long.

“Don’t leave Bri,” he mumbled and heard Brian’s breath hitch. 

“Never Rog.”

\--  
The next time Roger woke up he was in a different room. 

Voices whispered around him and the dull ache made itself known in his chest. He sucked in a short breath and opened his eyes, meeting large brown ones inches away from his own.

“Oh thank God Roger!” Freddie’s voice sounded far too loud. “I thought we were going to have to get Deaky to kiss you awake like Sleeping Beauty!”

“Hey!” John protested but he was smiling as well. 

With a huff Roger tried to push himself into a more upright position but pain shot up along his arm, chest, and stomach. The agony of it stole his breath and his vision whited out for a moment. Instantly multiple pairs of hands were on him, helping him lay back down.

“You have to take it easy mate,” John looked worried. 

The same doctor from before hurried into the room, a smile on his face. “Well hello there Mr. Taylor! Your friends have watched over you like hawks. I heard about every twitch, grumble and snore in great detail.”

“I don’t snore,” Roger ground out and the doctor chuckled. 

“Of course not. How are you feeling?” He stepped forward and his friends hovered awkwardly behind him. 

“Tired…sore,” it was hard to get the words out. They felt trapped in his chest and every breath was a challenge. 

“Understandable. You’ve been out of it for four days,” Roger’s brain fizzled at that. Four days! He had been unconscious for four days? “You’ve woken up briefly a few times but I doubt you remember.”

“No…”

“I’d like to talk you through your injuries if that is alright,” Dr. Matthews picked up his chart from the foot of his bed. Roger nodded faintly, not entirely sure if he wanted to know what had happened. “You’ll notice some tension in your breathing I’m sure. Your lung collapsed due to the two stab wounds to it. You also were wounded in your stomach and liver. We managed to stop the bleeding but we had to open you up to do it. You have an incision from here… to here.”

The doctor pointed from just below his sternum to right above his waist. Roger blinked down at his chest, suddenly horrified at the mental image of the stitches holding his body together. 

“It’ll get better right?” He breathed. “I’ll be able to sing?”

Freddie stiffened at the question, obviously having not considered that possibility. The doctor’s eyes softened and he nodded. “You’ll heal. It’ll take time, and you must stop smoking as it could cause a second collapse, but you will heal.”

“Okay,” Roger nodded, still feeling a bit faint as he tried to comprehend the information. “My arm?”

“You have two deep wounds to the upper arm. One caused some damage to the nerve,” everything seemed to get fuzzy at that. “We’ll keep it immobilized and hopefully with physical therapy and time you’ll get the full use of your arm back.”

So…he could have his lung collapse and lose the full use of his arm. Perfect for a singer and drummer. Absolutely perfect. Strangely enough he didn’t feel panicked or afraid, just numb. 

“Thank you doctor,” he mumbled and the doctor leaned forward to pat at his shoulder. 

“You’re lucky. You have a remarkable support system and I know you’re a fighter. I could tell from the moment you came in,” he sounded so confident that a bit of hope fluttered in his chest. “I can’t promise this will be easy but we’ll get you there in the end.”

With a final squeeze he said soft goodbyes to the others and stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Silence filled the room and they glanced between each other awkwardly. 

“Are…you alright Rog?” Freddie asked, sounding so unsure that he didn’t even sound like himself. Roger hated that.

“Sure,” Roger shrugged and immediately regretted it as it pulled at his stitches. “You heard him. I’ll be up and about in no time.”

They all stared at him like he had grown another head. It was better than the sad, lost look they had earlier.

“But…your lung and your arm,” Brian sputtered out, speaking for the first time since he had woken up. “That’s a lot to take in Roger. Hell, I don’t even know what I would do if I were in your place.”

“But you’re not,” Roger locked eyes with him and Brian shrunk back slightly. “I’m okay. I’ve gotten in scrapes before.”

“This isn't a bar fight! This is serious,” Brian argued, eyes flashing.

“What am I supposed to do?” His lungs ached with how much he was talking and he didn’t miss how uncomfortable Freddie and John looked. “Cower and weep? It was…unfortunate but I’m alright.”

Brian gaped at him, eyes wide and full of disbelief. “Unfortunate? You…”

“I’m quite tired,” Roger interrupted him. He couldn’t stand hearing them talk about it. He couldn’t stand remembering the horror of that night. He couldn't have a meltdown with them around him. “Maybe you lot could go get lunch or something but I need to sleep.”

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“Get breakfast then,” he snapped. 

Another silence followed before they started shuffling towards the door. Brian stared at him for a long, long while before turning on his heel and walking out. As soon as the door closed he could let out a breath. 

Maybe he had been a bit of a dick but he needed to be alone. He couldn’t bare one more second with their sad eyes staring at him, waiting for him to break. 

Roger let his fingers trace over the bandages, imagining what lay underneath. He could feel the phantom arm around his throat. He could feel the steel as it slid into his body so easily. He could feel the scrape of metal on bone and the warmth of blood. He could hear the words frantically whispered into his ears when he couldn’t even get enough air to scream.

“It’s alright my love. It’s alright. It’ll be over soon.”

The words echoed in his mind over and over as the wounds burned. A choked sob surprised him and soon Roger found himself sobbing. He bit down on his good hand, desperate not to make a noise. His body shook and ached furiously. 

He couldn’t let them see him like this.

He was Roger Taylor. He was the charismatic playboy of the group without a care in the world. He was the wild one with too short of a temper. He wasn’t some broken thing. He wasn’t…this.

He would put on a brave face. He would pretend everything was alright. 

And he would fall apart by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So poor Roger is going through some intense feelings and not dealing with them in the best way. I promise things will get better in time. It'll just take a while.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger continues to recover and Brian confesses something to Freddie and John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind reviews! They honestly make my day :)

Roger finally snapped a week after the attack. 

Brian had been waiting for it, had seen all the signs. He recognized Roger’s twitchy fingers and darting eyes. He noticed that the lighthearted jokes became a bit harsher and more bitter. He recognized when his too big smile turned brittle. 

It was bound to happen.

The physical therapist that accompanied Dr. Matthews was named Alice. She was a kind, heavy set older woman who wore bright colored headbands that matched her glasses. Brian liked her instantly but Roger ignored them, focusing on the magazine in his hands instead.

“Time to get up and moving Mr. Taylor,” Dr. Matthews said brightly. “I know you’re still in a bit of pain but we have to get you walking.”

“I’m fine,” Roger turned the page and Brian felt a spike of embarrassment for how rude his friend was being. 

“Staying in bed will only lengthen the healing process. You could develop pneumonia or a blood clot,” the doctor explained. “It won’t be for long, just a few minutes but it is essential.”

“I’m literally held together by string. It doesn’t seem smart to be moving about does it?” At that Brian had enough.

“I’m pretty sure the doctor knows what he’s talking about Roger,” he took a few steps forward and snatched the magazine out of his hands, getting an indignant shout in response. “Stop being a pussy and just stand for like two minutes.”

“Oh fuck off,” Roger scowled and shrunk down a bit. 

Alice seemed to take that as her cue and walked to his side with a smile. “I’ll be here to help every step of the way Mr. Taylor. Now, I’m going to take your arm and-“

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” the fire burned brightly in his eyes and Roger jerked his arm out of her touch, hissing in pain.

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous,” Brian rolled his eyes. 

The physical therapist didn’t seem bothered by his reaction, simply pausing before placing a hand on his arm again. “All we’re going to do is get your legs over the side of the bed and I’ll help you stand.”

“Like hell I will,” Roger was practically seething. “I’m not standing. I’m in pain and it’s not going to help.”

“Recovery is going to be difficult but this is the first step,” Brian could see the hysteria rising in Roger’s eyes as he leaned away from Alice. “If you continue staying in bed without walking around you could have a blood clot. That might lead to a heart attack or stroke. You’ll risk-“

“I know what I’ll risk!” He had seen Roger like this before. When he was really angry he would work himself into a state where he couldn’t hear any reason. “I fucking know! I also know my own body and I’m not about to stand up and…and let my goddamn guts spill out of me. Been there done that and won’t do it again.”

“Rog…”

“No! I’m tired of people telling me what to do! I want to be in control of one little fucking thing,” he was jerking a bit in bed, eyes overly wide and practically rolling. “I say no. You hear me! I said no! I won’t do it. I can’t do it.”

Then he sucked in a sharp breath and descended into violent coughs. He doubled over and groaned in pain as the coughs pulled at his healing lungs and chest. 

“Hey, hey,” Brian hurried forward to place his hand on Roger’s shoulder and was surprised when he jerked away. “Just breathe.”

“Don’t…fucking…touch…me,” Roger snarled between gasps. 

That hurt. He saw the way Roger’s eyes flicked up to the doctor and Alice. Brian turned towards then and looked up at them pleadingly. “Can you give us a few minutes please?”

He got a small smile and nod and then they were alone in the room. Roger was trembling on the bed, good hand still clasped to his chest as he wheezed and gasped. Finally, he managed to catch his breath and sagged back onto the bed. 

“What was that about Roger?” Brian whispered and the younger man swallowed a few times, looking away. 

“I don’t want to stand.”

“I gathered that,” Brian couldn’t stop his smile. “But why the freakout? They’re just doing their job.”

A blush colored Roger’s cheeks and he looked down, playing with a loose thread in his sheet. “I suppose I did act…a bit like a twat.”

“A bit? You almost bit that poor lady’s head off,” Brian rubbed the back of his neck. He could tell that Roger didn’t want to talk anymore but he wasn’t going to let this go. “You know it’s for the best right? It would be stupid if you went through all of this just to get worse because you wouldn’t get out of bed.”

Roger sat in utter silence for a long while before he sighed. “I just…I have no control here. I’m fine, far better now but I can’t control anything. Hell, with the catheter in I can’t even control when I piss. I just want to…say no and have it matter…it sounds stupid.”

“Yeah,” Brian nodded, getting a glare in response. “But I understand. You went through something traumatic and-“

“I’m not traumatized,” Roger rolled his eyes and Brian held his tongue. They would tackle that next. “I’m fine. I’m healing.”

“And the sooner you walk the sooner you can get out of here,” that got Roger to relax slightly. “I’ll be right here too. I’m not leaving.”

Roger continued to stare at his hands before heaving a huge sigh. “Fine.”

Beaming, Brian peeked out the door and called back in Dr. Matthews and Alice. They thankfully pretended like none of the mess from earlier had happened. Brian hovered behind them as Alice helped Roger swing his legs over the side of the bed. 

“Oh…oh fuck,” Roger was pale and panting by the time he was sitting upright. “Christ, that hurts.”

“I know it does,” Alice said soothingly, keeping hold of his shoulder to keep him upright. “Now we’re just going to get your feet underneath you and then you’re going to stand. Mr. May, do you mind giving me a hand?”

She could have asked the doctor for assistance and Brian was immensely glad she asked him. He got to Roger’s side and gently took his good arm. The younger man looked up at him, nervous. 

“Okay. I’ll be at your other side. Now, let’s stand,” at that Roger pushed up with his legs. He let out a high pitched gasp when pressure was put on his torso. 

“Look at you Rog,” Brian found himself grinning when Roger finally stood. His body shook under the strain and pain but he was standing. 

“Fuck off,” Roger gasped but it lacked any malice. After just a few moments they lowered him back to the bed and he pressed a hand gingerly to his bandages. “Jesus, that burns.”

“It’ll get better,” Dr. Matthews assured him. “And then you can go home.”

“And put this whole mess behind us,” Roger sighed, wincing again as he was helped back into bed. “I’d like nothing more.”

“Should I go get you a celebratory juice?” He smiled at Roger’s groan. He knew the younger man hated the food in the hospital but his stomach couldn’t quite handle his usual diet. 

“Pineapple?” He asked and Brian gave him a thumbs up before slipping out of the room.

Instead of heading right for the café downstairs Brian hurried to the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind him. He barely made it to the toilet in time before he vomited harshly. His throat burned from the bile and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. 

He had been so worried about Roger’s well being that he didn’t even consider that maybe he had been impacted more than he thought. Holding Roger up as he gasped in pain was so similar to the night of the attack and it lingered in Brian’s mind. He could practically feel the warm blood coating his hands. 

After he had finally caught his breath and calmed the nausea he washed his trembling hands. Why was he even like this? Brian felt almost disgusted with himself. He hadn’t been the one who was stabbed and nearly died. 

Brian splashed a bit of water on his face before walking down to the café. He grabbed the pineapple juice and then wandered down to the waiting room they had claimed as their own. None of them really felt comfortable going home while Roger stayed in the hospital. Blankets and pillows made up some makeshift beds and it reminded Brian of the study rooms from university. 

Freddie sat crosslegged on one of the pillow piles, frowning at a pair of pants he was trying to hem. Nearby John wrote quickly in a notebook. He had a look in his eye that told Brian he was writing a song. 

“Roger stood up,” he announced and both of them looked up. “By himself. The doctor says that it’s a really good sign.”

“That’s wonderful!” Freddie grinned. 

“Yeah…” the trembling in his hands intensified. “He just keeps telling me that he’s fine but he can’t be.”

“You know Rog, he will keep telling himself something until he believes it,” John looked pleased at the new development.

“But you’re not fine, are you?” Freddie’s too soft voice made tears burn in his eyes and he shook his head. “Oh Brian darling.”

Moments later he was enveloped in a hug and he let some of the tears fall. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Freddie mumbled where his face was pressed into his chest. “It comes in waves you know. One moment I feel normal and the next I’m a blubbering mess.”

A watery laugh bubbled up from his throat and he smiled. “He was just hurting and scared and it…it kind of messed with me. It scared me I suppose.”

“I suppose it would scare anyone if the person they…loved was in that situation,” his voice went up at the end and Brian’s heart stopped. 

“Fred…”

“I knew it!” Freddie hissed, spinning towards John. “See! Didn’t I say that I knew it?”

“You did,” John rolled his eyes. 

“Oh Brian you tragic thing you,” Freddie looped his arms around the taller man’s shoulders, standing a bit on his tiptoes. “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”

He couldn’t deny it anymore. He just closed his eyes and leaned into Freddie’s touch. “What the hell do I do?”

“Tell him!” John jumped up, walking towards them. Brian fixed him with a glare and shook his head. “You have to tell him Bri.”

“Roger’s in a bad place. He needs a friend to support him and be there for him. He doesn’t need this…this guy mooning over him,” he blushed and squirmed a bit away from Freddie’s touch. “I can’t have him deal with this at the same time.”

The other two men looked at each other and John sighed. “You both are idiots. You’re made for each other.”

“I’ll tell him,” Brian argued and John raised an eyebrow. “I will…someday. I’ll do it when we’re not dealing with this whole nightmare.”

Freddie frowned and moved to stand in front of him. “We’ll be dealing with this shit for the rest of our lives. This isn’t something that will just disappear. If anything we should live in the now because we’ll never know what could happen tomorrow.”

“I will. I promise,” he mumbled and the other two exchanged a look. 

“He needs you Brian,” John nudged him a bit with his shoulder, smiling warmly. “When you get your head out of your ass you’ll see that you’re not the only one mooning.”

Brian rolled his eyes. That was ridiculous. His friends were just trying to reassure their poor, pathetic friend. There was no way Roger felt the same towards him. There was absolutely no way. 

He had almost lost Roger once.

He wasn’t about to lose him after confessing his feelings.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger leaves the hospital. John and him have a conversation.

“You ready darling?” Freddie asked brightly, helping him into his fur lined coat. “I know Deaky has a cake and everything ready at the flat.”

Roger was practically giddy at the idea of finally going home. Two and a half weeks had passed by agonizingly slowly before Dr. Matthews announced he was ready to finish recovering at home. He couldn’t say that he was going to miss any part of the hospital experience.

Except…maybe the nurses. He always did have great fun making them blush during baths.

“Perhaps we could stop by the pub on the way home?” He asked pleadingly, pouting when Freddie shot him a look. “Not even for one beer?”

“Absolutely not,” Brian rolled his eyes and hefted Roger’s bag over his shoulder. 

Roger continued to pout as a nurse wheeled in a wheelchair. He sat down with a flourish and got a laugh from Freddie in response. His foot tapped impatiently on the rest as she wheeled him towards the front entrance. 

Finally, he could just lay in his own bed and sleep away this whole mess.

The bright, hopeful feeling faded when he saw the small crowd gathered outside. Freddie let out a soft sound and quickly pulled him back out of sight of the cameras. 

“Bloody vultures,” he grumbled. “Ready to give them a smile then?”

Roger couldn’t answer. His heart started pounding painfully in his chest and his mouth went completely dry. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t walk through a crowd where anyone could grab him. He couldn’t do that again.

“No.”

“We can shoo them a bit but they’ll want a picture of you. The heartthrob of Queen walking out of the hospital is going to make big news,” Freddie teased but Roger felt frozen. “Well, come on now.”

“I can’t,” he breathed. “Please…don’t make me walk out there.”

There was a long silence before Brian’s eyes widened. “Oh shit, of course not Roger! Of course you don’t want to…”

“Oh!” Freddie seemed to understand then too and turned to the nurse. “Is there another way for us to leave?”

She looked surprised but nodded and directed them to a small side entrance by the café. Freddie got a determined look in his eyes. “Alright, Brian you take Rog to that entrance. I’ll go outside and tell Miami about the small detour. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll be home soon!”

He swept outside and Roger could hear him speaking loudly to the reporters and paparazzi. His hands still shook and his chest still felt a bit tight but the panic lessened the further they got from the entrance.

“I’m sorry Roger, I didn’t even think about how you might feel in that situation,” Brian apologized profusely, worry shining in his eyes. 

“I just don’t want them to see me when I look like such a mess. I can’t even brush my hair properly,” his voice didn’t sound anything close to convincing and he didn’t have to look at Brian to know that he didn’t believe a word he said. 

Thankfully the side entrance was free of anyone but Miami and Freddie waiting in a car. Brian took his elbow and Roger tried to set his face so he wouldn’t wince too badly as he forced himself up. The muscles still burned and the cuts stung but at least he could stand mostly upright. 

He sighed and pulled the collar of his coat up a bit higher, snuggling down into it. Most of the ride was in silence and he found himself relaxing. What he really wanted was a cigarette and a greasy burger. His stomach hadn’t been able to handle much more than a liquid diet since his surgery but that didn’t stop the cravings. 

When they pulled up to their building Roger felt almost dizzy with relief. He could sleep in his own bed and drink tea from his favorite mug. He couldn’t wait.

John did in fact have a cake sitting on the kitchen counter. It was messily iced and covered in sprinkles and John looked so proud that Roger couldn’t help but grin. Something warm filled his chest at how supportive his friends were being.

“It looks just lovely Deaky but I’m going to go freshen up. I can still feel the hospital all over me,” he gave an exaggerated shudder and dropped his coat off on the couch on the way to the bathroom.

The door closed behind him and Roger leaned against it, closing his eyes. He was so tired just from making the short walk to the car and up to his front door. It frustrated him to no end and he ground his teeth.

When he finally opened his eyes he caught sight of himself in the mirror. The hospital had tiny, barely functional mirrors in the bathroom but Freddie had insisted on getting a huge full length mirror. His hair was a greasy mess and lay too flat on his head. Roger swallowed hard as he looked at his face and saw how much he had changed. His eyes were sunken and his cheekbones were slightly too prominent. 

Suddenly, Roger just had to see. 

He unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. He then carefully peeled the tape off the sides of his bandages to get a good look at his chest. The first thing he noticed was the fact that he lost weight was obvious. His hipbones jutted out and his ribs showed under his skin. The healing knife wounds were reddened and surrounded by yellowing bruises. A long cut ran right down the middle of him. Roger thought it looked like a zipper and felt a little hysterical. 

They were all going to scar. He was going to have to look at them every time he took a shirt off. Whoever he was with was going to be forced to see them every time he took his shirt off. 

A knock at the door startled him and he grabbed a green robe that had been hung on the back of the door. Roger quickly pulled it shut as the door opened to reveal a smiling John.

“I realized that you can’t get your stitches wet so you can’t shower,” he cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed in thought. “I picked up some baby wipes so you can try to feel cleaner. They’re in the drawer there.”

“Oh, thanks,” Roger gave him an awkward smile.

“But you can’t wash your hair which I’m sure must drive you insane,” John tapped his foot a few times before spinning on his heel and walking out the room. “Sit tight! I’ll be right back.”

He clutched his robe tighter around himself and waited impatiently. In moments John was back carrying some of their couch cushions. He placed them against the edge of the bathtub and made what looked like a little chair. 

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Helping you wash your hair,” John explained simply before he took off the shower curtain and draped it over the cushions. “You’re going to sit down and lean back. Then I can help you wash your hair.”

“What? No!” Roger sputtered, getting a side glance in response. 

“I know that I always feel great after I wash my hair. There’s just something about using your own shampoo I guess,” John shrugged. “But since you can’t raise your arms I can help.”

He wanted to argue but all Roger could think about was not feeling as grimy as he did. With the help of John’s hand on his arm he lowered down to the little cushion chair. He settled as much as he could and let out a long sigh.

“Want to take off the robe so it doesn’t get all wet?” John turned on the shower and took the handheld showerhead. 

Roger thought of John seeing those ugly wounds and instantly shook his head. Thankfully John didn’t ask any questions and helped Roger lay his head back against the side of the tub.

The slight stretch in his chest and stomach ached but the warm water in his hair made him groan. His eyes slid closed as John gently wet his hair and then worked shampoo into it. He immediately felt far more human and relaxed entirely.

“Those nurses were cute and all but they couldn’t do a bath for shit,” he mumbled, getting a laugh from John. “Maybe you should become a nurse Deaky.”

“I’m not smart enough,” the teasing was clear in his voice. 

“Probably not,” he got a slight tug on his hair in response. 

Roger kept his eyes clothes and just focused on the feeling of fingers scrubbing through his hair. He had been poked and prodded for days. It was almost overwhelming to be treated like a person and not like a tragedy. 

“Are you alright?” John’s voice startled him and he blinked away.

“Sure.”

“Really? Because you’re crying,” Roger quickly reached his good hand up to touch his face and blushed at the wet tears. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, sucking in a few deep breaths. 

John was quiet as he worked conditioner into his hair next. “We’re all really proud of you Rog. I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”

“You couldn’t have your hair washed by another man?” He tried to joke but it fell flat. 

“I know you think that…we might see you differently or something but we won’t. We just want you to be happy,” John washed the conditioner out carefully. “Asking for help doesn’t make-“

“Me weak. I know,” Roger finished for him and John hummed slightly. “I appreciate it John.”

He sat up as John towel dried his hair. It was amazing what a difference it made. Roger let out a long sigh and nudged John slightly. The younger man didn’t say anything but gave Roger a gentle nudge.

“What are you two getting up to in there?” Freddie called from the hallway.

“John is getting me all soapy and wet,” Roger shouted back, getting an eyeroll from John. 

“And you didn’t invite us?” Freddie sounded outraged and Brian let out a bark of laughter. 

It felt just like when they used to tease each other and Roger found himself grinning. He accepted the help to stand and shook his hair out a bit. The neck of his robe was rather wet but Roger ignored it. He just tightened the tie on his robe. 

“Hey Rog,” John caught his elbow as he started to walk out the door. “Don’t shut us out okay?”

The sincerity in his eyes made something twist in Roger’s stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on now,” he looked a little disappointed. “We aren’t expecting you to be strong or weak or anything. We’re just expecting you to react the way…you do. We’ll be here you know.”

Roger stared down at the floor and swallowed heavily. “Thanks Deaky. Really.”

After a beat John wrapped his arm around his waist and gave him a small hug. “I really worked hard on that cake. Want to watch us eat it while you eat some yogurt?”

“Sounds just delightful.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is threatened by his attacked and actions are taken to keep him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, be warned that there is some disturbing content in this chapter.

Brian’s heart almost stopped when he walked into their flat and saw the two police officers in their living room.

 

“What’s this?” He asked, quickly placing the bags of groceries on the floor. Both Freddie and John were standing, looking uncomfortable, while Roger sat on the couch.

 

“Mr. May I presume?” One of the officers reached his hand out to shake. “My name is Officer Stanton and this is my partner Officer Long. We are here to discuss some recent information pertaining to Mr. Taylor’s case.”

 

“It’s fine if he’s here too,” Roger’s voice was almost too quiet.

 

Brian glanced between the men and then slowly took a seat next to Roger. The younger man didn’t turn to look at him but he tensed up. He could even see the way he clenched his jaw and a ball of unease settled in Brian’s stomach.

 

“So…we have received several threats against Mr. Taylor’s life,” the nerves exploded into near panic. “Doctor Nathan Godfrey has-“

 

“That’s his name?” Brian interrupted. He hadn’t wanted to learn anything about the man who attacked Roger. It was easier to see him as a monster instead of a person who made the conscious decision to try and end Roger’s life.

 

“Yes sir,” the officer gave him a glance. “He has written several letters to Mr. Taylor from prison and they have all been screened. The letters threaten that he knows people who could injure or kill Mr. Taylor.”

 

“Jesus,” John breathed and gripped the back of the couch, almost like his knees had gone a bit weak.

 

“He did allude to previous letters. Do you have any recollection of that?” Stanton turned his attention to Roger.

 

“Am I being questioned?” Roger raised an eyebrow but squirmed.

 

“Of course not sir. I am just trying to get as much information as I possibly can,” Stanton didn’t look put off by Roger’s huffs or eye rolls. He kept the same serious expression on his face until Roger sank down slightly and turned his eyes to the floor.

 

“He sent me some letters before.”

 

Brian snapped his head to the side and stared at him in disbelief. How could Roger have gotten letters from a psychopath and never told them? How could he keep this from him? For a moment anger flared up in him before he reminded himself that Roger was already scared enough as it was. He breathed in deeply and clenched his hands into fists.

 

“Did you report these letters?”

 

“No,” Roger huffed out a laugh.

 

“Why the hell not?” Freddie moved around the couch to look at Roger better. “Did he threaten you in the letters? Did you know this could happen?”

 

The silence that followed confirmed Brian’s worst fears. “Oh God Roger.”

 

“What was I supposed to say?” Roger snapped, arms tightening around his middle. “That some weird guy was sending me love letters? That he was writing about all the creepy, dirty things he wanted to do to me? No fucking way.”

 

Brian was actually struck dumb at that. How could Roger possibly keep that a secret? How long had it been going on for?

 

“According to his newest letter he-“

 

“Do you have it?” Roger asked quickly.

 

“I do,” the officer pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of a folder that he was holding. Roger held his hand out expectantly and Stanton paused before handing it to him.

 

The expression on Roger’s face as he read it was chilling. His eyes were completely blank as they flitted across the page. Brian felt his heart beating faster and faster until Roger finally folded the paper and tried to hand it back to the officer.

 

“Can I read it?” He asked softly. Roger gave him a long look before shrugging and handing him the letter. For a moment Brian considered just telling him to forget it. He didn’t know if he wanted to humanize this man anymore than he had to. Then he realized that he couldn’t let Roger do this alone. The fact that he didn’t fight Brian on reading the letter showed that he actually wanted to reach out and get some help. His fingers trembled as he unfolded it.

 

_My dearest Sunshine,_

_You haven’t answered my last letters. Of course you’ve never answered my letters before but I have to make sure you understand that I am sorry. I am sorry I hurt you so badly. I never wanted to cause you pain and distress, please believe me._

_I should have slit your throat with the knife or brought a gun to make it faster. Then you wouldn’t be suffering in this mortal world but waiting for me in the next._

_Don’t worry. I have friends who will help us be together. They have promised me that they will end your life on earth as peacefully as they can. Once I hear of your sweet sleep I’ll follow you into the dark and it’ll be like we were never apart._

_I have loved you from the first time I saw you walking into my class at university. You are so beautiful and so clever but you would never look at me. It’s alright. Why would an angel look down at a mere human? Soon though we will embrace in the void and I promise that I will never let you go. I’ll worship every part of you and you will know true bliss._

_I will see you soon my love._

_Yours forever,_

_Nate_

Brian felt almost dizzy when he finished reading the letter. He couldn’t tell if his heart was beating too fast or if it had stopped all together but his chest ached. When he finally glanced up he saw Roger staring back at him in trepidation, almost like he was scared of his response.

 

“He was your professor?” He finally asked.

 

“My professor’s assistant,” Roger mumbled back. “I didn’t even know who he was.”

 

“Wait, this has been happening since university?” Freddie interjected, eyes widening.

 

“It would…it was a few letters here or there or some little gifts. It wasn’t anything big. When we came out with the first album he got a bit more excited I suppose,” Roger twisted his fingers together. “I mean…they were just words right?”

 

“Until they weren’t,” John’s voice shook a bit and Roger nodded.

 

“Until they weren’t,” he echoed.

 

“And judging by the fact that he has made good on his threats in the past we are worried that this threat could be possible,” Stanton said, taking the letter back from Brian’s numb fingers.

 

“What am I supposed to do?” Roger looked so lost that Brian felt his heart break. There wasn’t any bravado or false smiles here. “Just…tell me what I am supposed to do.”

 

The officer cleared his throat a bit. “I suggest you find somewhere to stay for a while. I know you are still recovering but you might want to get out of the city.”

 

“Perhaps with your mum?” Brian suggested but the idea of being away from Roger when all this was happening made him sick.

 

“And put her in danger? No thank you,” Roger sighed and leaned back, tapping nervously on the armrest.

 

Freddie raised a finger in the air, his eyes brightening a bit. “I have an idea. There is this farm I know of. It’s in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t any major roads or towns nearby. Think of it; no people, television or newspapers.”

 

“So we would just milk cows and feed chickens?” Roger bit out.

 

“Of course not dear, don’t interrupt me. The farm is also a recording studio. We go and record our new album there,” Freddie grinned at his idea. “The safety is just an added bonus.”

 

That sounded truly amazing. A farm where they could keep their eye on Roger and help him get better. They could also write music, something he knew Roger desperately missed. He could see the blond thinking it over and finally he nodded.

 

“Fine. We’ll go be proper farm boys,” he agreed.

 

Brian tried not to let his sign of relief be audible.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger finally shares some of his thoughts.

Brian was jolted out of sleep by the creak of his door opening.

 

Absolute panic completely consumed him and he held his breath as he tried to strain his ears. His hands clenched into the sheets when he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps. Was this one of the guys who was going to hurt Roger? Had he already gotten to Roger? What if he had already killed the others and Brian was last?

 

The footsteps continued until there was a slight pause. Then, the bed dipped slightly and he decided to act. Brian sat up quickly and shoved the person back as hard as he could. The man let out a yelp and Brian grabbed his lamp off the bedside table, raising it to strike.

 

“Fucking hell Brian! What the hell are you doing?” He blinked down at a clearly furious Roger. It took a bit too long before his brain caught up to what was happening.

 

“Roger? What…are you okay?” Roger scowled but managed to push himself off the floor. He shoved at Brian until he slid over and then lay on the bed next to him.

 

“I’m fine. Didn’t tear a stitch or anything. Were you going to bash my brains in with that?” He glanced at the lamp and Brian blushed, quickly returning it to the table.

 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to creep into my room in the middle of the night,” Roger snorted at that. “Seriously though, did I hurt you?”

 

“No, I’m good. It’s always sore anyway.”

 

A long silence followed before Brian finally spoke up. “Why are you in here anyway?”

 

“I…couldn’t sleep,” his voice was softer than Brian had ever heard it.

 

Brian stayed quiet, not wanting to make Roger shut down. He just watched as expressions flitted across his face. Roger stared up at the ceiling, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

 

“I…I always felt a bit proud of my appearance. Maybe it made me a bit vain but…I was. When he first started sending me the letters I was a little flattered. Then we put out the first album and I started getting more letters so I didn’t think much about them,” as he spoke Roger traced his fingers along a line of stitches on his ribs. “I mean…they were kind of creepy and got really specifically sexual but I didn’t think about it. They were just words…I just didn’t…I don’t know what I did to make him do this to me. I mean I flirt too much and joke too much…maybe I led him on.”

 

Brian swallowed thickly. “Rog, it isn’t your fault.”

 

“But…I had to have done something. Why else would he choose me?” He looked at Brian with such heartbreak in his eyes that Brian felt his own chest go tight.

 

“Listen to me,” he reached over to turn Roger’s chin so he could look in his eyes. “You just glow Roger. Anyone who looks at you knows that you are something amazing. It’s not just about your looks either. You are so smart and funny and thoughtful. I mean, you’re a bit of a prick sometimes but that adds to who you are. Some people just…are drawn to that spark and some people are delusional to think they are entitled to it. No one can dull your shine Roger. No one should ever try.”

 

At that Roger quickly looked back at the ceiling. “I guess.”

 

“Imagine I was in your place. Would you have thought I deserved it?” Roger shook his head quickly. “So why do you think you deserve it?”

 

Roger shrugged against but his eyes looked over bright in the faint light from the street lamps. “I don’t know. You’d be too smart to get in this mess though.”

 

“Hush, that’s stupid and you know it,” he got a glare in response.

 

They both lay in silence for a few minutes and Brian could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He hated knowing that Roger was thinking all those poisonous thoughts. It had to be eating him up inside and he had kept it inside for so long.

 

“I feel bad that we’re going to a fucking farm because of me,” he finally whispered.

 

“It’s not because of you. It’s for you,” Brian nudged him slightly. “We’d do anything for you. Me, John and Freddie love you.”

 

He saw the motion of Roger reaching up to wipe his eyes but didn’t turn. He wanted to give him the slightest bit of privacy. Roger’s breathing sounded shaky next to him but finally he reached his good hand down and squeezed Brian’s.

 

“This is all so fucked up,” he whispered. “It’s scary.”

 

“I’m terrified too,” Brian relished in the fact that their hands were still clasped. “But I’m not going anywhere. I promise you won’t go through this alone.”

 

Roger turned to look at him, eyes shining. “Can I sleep in here with you?”

 

How could Brian possibly refuse him? “Of course.”

 

With his fingers still intertwined Brian fell into the first peaceful sleep he had in a long time.

 

\--

 

Brian woke up feeling warm and content. Hair was tickling his nose which caused him to scrunch it up and open his eyes.

 

He was met with a mop of wild blond hair. Brian pushed himself up on his elbow and studied the sleeping man laying in his bed. His heart fluttered at the sight and he couldn’t help but smile softly. Roger looked so peaceful snuggled into his pillows and sheets. The worry and fear had smoothed out in his sleep, making him look younger. His mouth hung slightly open which just added to the whole picture.

 

Then Brian looked further down and saw the dark stitches peeking out from the neck of his shirt. They looked so wrong on his pale skin. As much as Brian wished this had never, ever happened he was grateful for the stitches. They showed that he was still here with him. They showed that Roger fought and survived.

 

Looking at Roger sleeping peacefully assured him that everything would be okay.

 

They would go to Ridge Farm. They would record a new album and it would be amazing. They would be away from danger and be safe.

 

Everything would be okay.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive at Ridge Farm and Roger finally breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy. Roger goes through a lot of feelings very quickly.
> 
> WARNING: Panic attacks

The van ride to Ridge Farm was long and silent.

 

Brian had, maybe foolishly, thought that Roger’s whispered confession would change things. Instead he had woken up, apologized about waking him in the night, and things had gone back to normal. Roger still kept things to himself, hiding his feelings with jokes and snide remarks.

 

Getting the stitches out seemed to make a difference. Roger was able to be more independent and he took advantage of that. It was obvious that he was still in pain but he did his best to hide it from his friends.

 

It had to be uncomfortable sitting in the van for so long. Brian could see Roger squirming in his seat a bit and when he thought no one was looking he rubbed at his arm. He hadn’t complained about it but Brian could tell that his arm was stiff and a bit awkward when it moved. It had to be worrying Roger terribly.

 

“Here we are lads!” Miami called out and Roger made a face.

 

It was a true farm. Brian didn’t know what he expected but he thought it would more like a studio and less like a farmhouse from a children’s story. There were chickens wandering around and a long gravel driveway. The little farmhouse was covered in vines and sweet little flowers.

 

Most importantly, there wasn’t a house in sight. Brian could see the relief in the set of Roger’s shoulders. Ever since he was released from the hospital Roger had avoided going out in public unless he absolutely had to. The empty fields had to be a great comfort to him.

 

Roger was uncharacteristically silent as they walked into the house. He trailed his fingers along the warm leather sofas and looked around the studio when they had their tour. It was obvious that Miami had put lots of thought into their room placement and Brian was incredibly grateful that both his and Roger’s rooms were tucked away on the top floor. It felt safer that they weren’t easily accessible.

 

“I’ll get unpacked,” Roger kicked his suitcase into his room and shut the door firmly behind him. For a moment, Brian hovered awkwardly by the door before disappearing into his own room.

 

It looked a bit like his mother’s house. The wallpaper was a bit flowery and the quilt was old and worn. He sat down heavily on his bed and let out a long breath. He flopped back onto the bed, fancying a nap. It would be so nice to just drift off while the sun warmed his bed and the only sounds were the chickens clucking down below.

 

Then, there was a crash.

 

“Motherfucker!” Roger seethed in the room next to him and he forced himself up with a sigh. He heard a long series of curses and stepped out into the hallway, nearly bumping into Freddie who was hurrying down the hallway.

 

“You okay Rog?” Freddie called out and Brian saw John peeking out from around the top of the stairs.

 

“No I’m not fucking okay!” Roger snarled back at them and Freddie opened the door. Broken glass littered the floor at Roger’s feet and he gripped his arm tightly.

 

“Did you cut yourself?” Brian stepped closer but froze when Roger looked at him, fire in his eyes.

 

“I just wanted to move the fucking pitcher and dropped it. Who the fuck needs a pitcher in their bedroom?” Roger grit out between clenched teeth. “My hand seized up and I fucking dropped it.”

 

Brian knew this was a volatile situation. He had seen Roger just moments before an explosion too many times. One of Roger’s hands was clenched into a tight fist and the other spasmed at his side.

 

“It’s fine dear, let me help you just sweep it up,” Freddie tried to breeze into the room and that was apparently enough to break the last thread holding Roger together.

 

He let out a scream that Brian had never heard before and it chilled him to his bones. Roger ripped one of the decorative plates off the wall and threw it into the wall opposite them. He continued with the rest of the three plates, chest heaving with gasped breaths.

 

“Are you going to help me sweep those up too?” He shrieked at a wide eyed, frozen Freddie. “Because I can’t use a fucking broom on my own!”

 

He tore the sheets off the bed and kicked the mattress off. Then he grabbed the lamp off the bedside table and threw it into the mirror above the dresser. John gasped from the doorway, hand gripping the doorjamb tightly.

 

“Roger! Stop this!” Brian shouted over Roger’s frantic ranting. “You’re going to hurt yourself!”

 

Instead, Roger let out the most heart shattering wail they had ever heard and sank down into the sea of glass at his feet. Brian hurried over, shoes crunching, and fell to his knees next to the blond who had pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face in them. Pain blossomed where he knelt on the ground but Brian couldn’t care.

 

“Stop!” Roger screamed out when Brian gently touched his shoulder. “Don’t fucking touch me! Get out! Leave me alone!”

 

“Rog, Roger,” Brian refused to move, keeping his hand on his shoulder even when he tried to jerk away.

 

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Those burning eyes snapped up and flickered between the three of them. “I fucking hate all of you.”

 

“You don’t mean that Roger,” John said softly, sounding broken. Freddie crossed the room and knelt down next to him as well but the blond leaned away.

 

Roger’s face twisted into something ugly and mean. “Fuck you assholes. You never gave a damn about me. I bet you wish he had finished the job so you could not have to deal with all this drama. I bet-“

 

A loud smack echoed through the room and Roger’s head snapped to the side. He lifted a hand to his cheek and gaped at Freddie who still had his hand raised.

 

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Say. That,” Freddie hissed, slow and dangerous. "Don't you ever say that. We would  _never_ wish for that monster to hurt you.  _Never."_

 

Tears flooded Roger’s eyes and he quickly buried his face in his knees again, sobs shaking his thin frame. The combination of the sobs and hunched over position soon caused him to fall into a coughing fit but this time he didn’t shake off Brian’s comforting hand.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Roger blubbered and the anger seemed to seep out of Freddie. He blinked back a few tears of his own and rested his hand on Roger's back. “I just don’t know what to do. I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

 

John shuffled closer and perched himself on the edge of the stripped bed. He clasped his hands in front of him nervously and kept looking between the three in front of them.

 

“Rog…”

 

“I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t leave the fucking house,” Roger choked out, words muffled by his knees. “I hurt all the time. I just want to forget this whole nightmare and I’m trying to goddamn hard but…I can’t forget. It’s like he’s still following me and…I don’t even know…I’m scared and it’s not fucking fair!”

 

He finished his rant in a scream. Freddie leaned forward to press his cheek to Roger’s back and loosely wrapped an arm around his middle. Roger instantly collapsed into his touch, still whimpering out soft cries. The nervous tightening in Roger’s face started to get concerning. His breathing still came out in short gasps and his eyes grew glassy. Brian glanced down at the glass carpeting the room and the blood that dotted the floor.

 

“Come on, let’s get you into some comfortable clothes and get you laying down,” he said softly but Roger didn’t move a muscle. Without hesitating, Brian scooped Roger into his arms. He was surprised by how light the younger man was but didn’t say anything as he carried him into his own bedroom.

 

Roger had fine tremors running through him. He curled up into a tight ball when Brian placed him in the bed. There was a lost, faraway look in his eyes that absolutely terrified the guitarist.

 

“Here,” Freddie appeared behind him with a set of clothes. Concern only rose in Brian as he got Roger out of his jeans without a protest. It wasn’t the first time they had undressed each other, drunken nights out led to some interesting situations, but Roger always threw a fit. He didn’t even twitch as Brian pulled soft joggers up over his hips.

 

"I shouldn't have hit him," Freddie mumbled, looking horrified at himself. "That's was fucked up. I shouldn't have done it."

 

"He was hysterical," John said carefully. "He needed to be snapped out of it or he was going to hurt himself. He's fine Fred, you didn't hurt him."

 

Still Freddie looked ashamed as he carefully folded Roger's jeans. Brian grabbed the hem of his shirt, ready to get him into a soft sleep shirt. A harsh whine ripped from his throat and he nearly nailed Brian in the face with his elbow.

 

“Don’t,” he whispered and Brian leaned back with a nod.

 

“Roger…talk to us please,” Freddie’s voice cracked.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to drum anymore. I can hardly sustain talking let alone singing,” his voice was hollow. “I appreciate how you’ve all helped me but…I think you’re wasting your time. You need to replace me and make the album.”

 

“That’s absolutely mad,” John spoke up, a deep frown on his face. “No one could possibly replace you Rog. You’re still healing, it is going to take time.”

 

“How much time? We could be dropped if it takes too long,” Roger’s eyes were overly shiny.

 

“Then we’ll find someone else,” John said, getting a nod from the other two. “It’s not Queen without you Roger. No one can possibly replace you.”

 

Brian forced a smile on his face and lay his hand on Roger’s calf, giving it a squeeze. “This is going to be hard. There are going to be days like this but there will be many more days that are better. We’ll be here with you through both.”

 

There was a long silence as Roger stared at the wall before he finally closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I broke the pitcher…and the plates…and tore the sheets…and broke the mirror.”

 

“All that shit was hideous anyway. You did us a favor,” Freddie teased and a ghost of a smile flitted across Roger’s face. "And...I'm sorry I slapped you. It was uncalled for and I-"

 

“It's fine. I'm not mad at you Fred. It had to happen,” he flinched slightly, clearly humiliated by his actions. “Can…can I have some time alone?”

 

Freddie was about to shake his head but John placed a hand on his chest. “Absolutely Rog. Just call if you need us.”

 

They started walking out and with a final squeeze to his calf Brian got up to follow them. Roger’s hand shot out, grabbing at Brian’s shirt. “Wait…Brian, don’t leave…unless you want to go…”

 

“Of course I’ll stay,” Brian returned to his spot, glancing up to see Freddie fixing him with a long stare. He nodded, trying to convey the message that they would talk later and the door shut behind them.

 

Roger’s eyes slid shut and Brian returned his hand to his calf, rubbing it gently. He could hear the sound of broken glass being swept up and hoped that Freddie and John would return the room to as close to normal as possible.

 

“No one is angry at you Roger. No one thinks any differently about you,” he spoke softly and Roger stiffened. “You are so brave.”

 

“I don’t feel it,” he let out a bitter laugh but didn’t open his eyes. “What I do feel is embarrassed about how I acted.”

 

“You’ve been holding all that in for so long. It was bound to come pouring out eventually,” Brian kept rubbing his thumb along Roger’s calf in what he hoped was a comforting way. “There isn’t a right or wrong way to deal with this. You just react to your feelings in a way that feels right to you. I’ll be here to help when things get hard.”

 

He looked up to see Roger staring at him, a curious look in his eyes. “You always are here for me, aren’t you?”

 

The words just shriveled up in Brian’s throat and he nodded. Silence stretched between them and Roger didn’t look away. Nerves made Brian’s stomach twist and turn but he didn’t move either.

 

“I’m…pretty tired,” Roger finally mumbled, breaking the strange spell that had hovered between them. “I think I need to take a short nap.”

 

“Okay,” Brian lifted his hand and helped Roger get under the quilt. “I’ll just read in the armchair. Don’t worry about anything, just rest.”

 

“I’ll try,” Roger sighed, closing his eyes.

 

As quietly as he could, Brian crept to the leather armchair by the window and dug his book out of his bag. Instead of opening it he just stared at the man who was quickly drifting off into sleep.

 

Roger had to be exhausted after his panic attack. He had slipped so far into hysteria that Brian had been scared he wouldn’t be able to come out of it. Tears filled his eyes at the memory of Roger’s screams and sobs. He had never heard another human being sound like that before.

 

Part of Brian felt relieved. Roger needed to let out the fear and anxiety that had been eating him up inside. Of course, Brian wished it hadn’t been in such a violent way but it had to have taken a slight weight off of Roger.

 

The other part of Brian was terrified that now that Roger had opened this part of him he would drown in it. It wouldn’t be better, it would probably get worse for a bit. Roger would struggle with a sea of emotions that he had tried so hard to push down and it just wasn’t fair for him to suffer anymore.

 

If Brian could take his pain as his own he would do it in a heartbeat.

 

But all he could do was help keep Roger’s head above water.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions are made.

John didn’t even say anything when Freddie poured a good amount of whiskey into his coffee.

 

They sat in absolute silence, staring at the oak table in front of them. The glass had been swept up and the sheets had been replaced but what had happened still echoed in their minds. Not one sound could be heard from upstairs despite how hard they strained their ears.

 

“Maybe this was a mistake bringing him here,” John finally whispered.

 

“I’m amazed this hasn’t happened sooner. It just goes to show how damn stubborn he is,” Freddie scoffed and took a long drink. “It’ll get better…I fucking hope it does.”

 

“I don’t know how he does it,” he tapped his fingers nervously on his table. “I still have nightmares.”

 

Freddie shivered slightly and nodded. “Do you…feel it still? The blood?”

 

“I can’t wash my hands in warm water,” John glanced up and they locked eyes for a long moment. It was Roger who had been attacked but the trauma had spread out like ripples. No matter how much time had passed the panic still swelled up at random times throughout the day.

 

“Good. I thought I was the only one. It’s reassuring to know that we’re all fucked up,” Freddie laughed to himself but there was no humor in it. They shared a smile and finished their coffees.

 

“Think Brian has told Roger how he feels?” John asked, nodding when Freddie held up the whiskey bottle. He raised his eyebrow at the generous pour but took a long drink.

 

“Course not,” Freddie scoffed. “He’s scared and I don’t blame him. He’s too scared to look at Roger so he doesn’t see the looks he gets back.”

 

John snorted at that and grinned. “Stupid fuckers, aren’t they?”

 

 Freddie laughed and clinked their cups together. Heavy footsteps coming down the stairs made them both glance up. The frontman grabbed another coffee cup and filled it with a dash of whiskey, handing it to Brian who smiled sheepishly.

 

“He’s sleeping,” he sighed, sitting down in a chair. “I just needed a breather but I’m going back up in a bit.”

 

John could tell Freddie was itching to know what had happened after they left but he was trying desperately to hold it in. It was obvious that Brian wasn’t too keen on telling them either. They sipped at their drinks, enjoying the burn and warmth.

 

“I was right in front of him. I was just…I could have reached out and touched him,” Brian finally whispered. “And I think about that all the time. That night is just on repeat in my head. I even think I nodded to that monster when we walked by. How could I not have seen it?”

 

“He’d been to our shows before, he’s been around Roger since university,” John tried to reason. “None of us saw this coming. We can look back and see all the signs but we couldn’t have done anything. Roger is too good at hiding things and too proud.”

 

Brian hummed slightly and took another sip. “Don’t say that you don’t think about what could have been.”

 

“Of course I do,” John sighed. “I’m usually the last one out but Roger got distracted. Maybe if I were behind him I could have stopped that guy. Or maybe the roof could have collapsed exactly over him and crushed him before he attacked Roger. The point is, we can go over what could have been a million times and it wont change anything.”

 

“It pisses me off that you are the youngest but you’re the smartest one of us,” Brian grumbled.

 

“It is infuriating,” Freddie laughed.

 

They finished their drinks in silence. With a sigh, Brian got back on his feet and waved his hand back up to the stairs. He made his way back up to Roger’s room and Freddie collected the mugs, placing them in the sink.

 

\--

 

Roger groaned as he came slowly to wakefulness. His head felt like it was filled with cotton and his eyes felt dry and sore. A stretch caused him to wince and place a hand on the long scar that ran down his middle. The skin still ached and was too tight. He could feel the ridges of the scars and it caused him to shudder a bit.

 

“Why hello sleepyhead,” Brian’s warm voice made him crack his eyes open.

 

“Hi,” Roger cleared his throat and wet his lips. “What time is it?”

 

“Just before supper,” Brian put his book down and leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

 

Roger frowned at the clock next to him. Had Brian really stayed with him for hours? “I’m tired. Embar-“

 

“Don’t be,” Brian shook his head, interrupting the younger man. “Are you feeling up for dinner? John is making soup and I know Freddie has gotten out the Scrabble board.”

 

Roger nodded quietly, wrapping Brian’s quilt around his shoulders before fallowing him down the stairs. He felt his cheeks heat up when he saw the other men but they didn’t do anything but give him a smile and wave. A steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup was placed in front of him by Freddie.

 

“Miami also bought some ice cream. You can eat it to soothe your hurt feelings after I beat you in Scrabble,” Freddie teased, getting an eyeroll from Roger.

 

Supper passed by peacefully. The silence broken only by jokes or complements to John on his cooking. Roger still sat nervously, afraid that at any moment someone would decide that his drama would be just too much to handle. Instead, they treated him like they had before.

 

“I’m sorry I freaked out,” Roger blurted out, unable to take the anxiety rising in his chest. “It was stupid.”

 

“Roger, I’ve seen you rip a jacket to shreds because you couldn’t find pants that went with it. It wasn’t the first and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” Freddie picked up his empty bowl.

 

“I don’t like feeling useless,” Roger scowled down at his hands.

 

Freddie reached over and ruffled his hair, getting a squawk in response. “Stop this self depreciating bullshit.”

 

They fell back into their comfortable routine, eating ice cream and playing Scrabble well into the night. As the hours passed Roger relaxed further into the leather couch. He smiled at the jokes and teasing comments from his friends, feeling incredibly grateful for his friends. Who else would have stayed with him after all this?

 

John was the first to excuse himself to bed, yawning loudly and tossing his tiles back into the box. Next, Freddie disappeared to his room as well. A comfortable silence passed between Roger and Brian as they cleaned up the game.

 

Maybe it was the long nap in the middle of the day but Roger felt like he was vibrating with energy. He washed the ice cream bowls a few times, scrubbing at spots that had been cleaned long ago. It had been a nice night, a peaceful night even, and Roger didn’t want it to end.

 

It was obvious that Brian didn’t want it to end either.

 

“Hey, want to go outside? There’s this nice big patio and I bet the stars are out,” Brian suggested and Roger smiled at the awkward way he held himself.

 

They stepped outside into the cool air, cups of hot tea steaming in the night. Brian was right, the stars were incredible. In London the skies were always a bit hazy but here they shone brighter than Roger could ever imagine.

 

“Oh look, you can see the Milky Way,” Brian pointed up at the smear of light.

 

“It’s beautiful,” Roger breathed, taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs.

 

“Uh huh…and there’s Ursa Major and…Draco and…Cassiopeia,” Brian pointed out each constellation.

 

“Cassie pee-a?” Roger huffed out a laugh and Brian joined in.

 

“No idiot. Cassiopeia was a queen and bragged about how her daughter Andromeda and her were more beautiful than all of Poseidon’s daughters. Obviously, this pissed off Poseidon and he flooded the country,” Brian started.

 

“An appropriate response,” Roger quipped, a smile on his face.

 

“Right? So, Cassiopeia was told that she had to sacrifice her daughter to stop the flooding. She chained Andromeda to a rock and left her there for a sea monster to eat. Thankfully, Perseus killed the monster, saved her and they fell in love,” Brian seemed to be tracing the lines of the stars with his eyes. “But Poseidon was still angry and chained Cassiopeia to a chair in the sky to torment her for the rest of time.”

 

“The gods are dicks,” Roger said around the rim of his mug. “You really had to learn all of this?”

 

“Kind of, that part was more like reading dirty romance novels,” Brian shrugged. “It was an elective and seemed better than anything else.”

 

“She shouldn’t have bragged but no one deserved to die for that,” Roger stared up at the stars. “I do like the part where she was punished though. You shouldn’t be able to decide who lives and who dies.”

 

“No, you shouldn’t.”

 

They just stared up at the stars before Roger sighed. “Are there any happy stories about the stars?”

 

“Gemini isn’t bad. They were twins, Castor and Pollux,” Brian pointed out the stars. “They were super close but, in a fight, Castor was killed. Pollux lost it. He begged the gods to kill him too so he wouldn’t be alone on earth. Zeus felt bad for him so he put them in the stars so they could be together forever.”

 

“That’s still sad but nice, weird incest thing aside,” Roger finished off his tea.

 

“I guess,” Brian took in a deep breath. “I get it though. You don’t want to live if the person you love most is gone.”

 

Roger looked over to see that Brian’s gaze was focused on him instead of the skies. They were sitting close and something seemed to spark when they locked eyes. Roger felt like the air had gone a bit thin and was all to aware of how their arms were almost touching.

 

“Fuck it,” Brian breathed and leaned forward to press his lips against Roger’s.

 

Roger sat stiffly in his chair, eyes still wide open. Their lips simply just touched, not moving or attempting to deepen the kiss but Roger still felt like he was on fire. He couldn’t get enough breath in and felt dizzy.

 

“Oh…no, no, no,” he finally managed to breathe out and Brian jerked back like he had been burned.

 

“Fuck,” Brian looked completely horrified. “Oh fuck, oh God.”

 

He scrambled to his feet, tripping over himself a few times. Brian took a few steps back and looked truly panicked. He held one hand to his mouth and shook his head with the other.

 

“Brian…”

 

“I’m so fucking sorry. What was I thinking?” He then reached down to dig his nails into his arm. “Shit…I’ll go. I’ll leave the farm. I’m so goddamn sorry Rog.”

 

He then spun on his heel and started back to the house, but Roger jerked forward and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t leave.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Brian shook his head and tried to flee again but panic clawed at Roger’s throat.

 

“No! You told me you wouldn’t leave me alone! You told me you wouldn’t leave!” Brian blinked down at him and then slowly sank down into his chair.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Brian whispered, eyes overly bright. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

 

“You didn’t mean it,” his head snapped up, expression heartbroken as Roger spoke. “You couldn’t have.”

 

Brian’s mouth dropped open for a moment and then he shook his head again. “No Rog…I’ve felt this way for years. I’ve been completely head over heels for you since you auditioned for me and Tim. I’ve just been too scared to say anything and…clearly you don’t feel the same way. I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

 

“You just feel bad for me,” Roger seemed to almost be talking to himself. “It’s like some kind of hero complex or something. What’s it called…Florence Nightingale syndrome or something.”

 

“No! It’s not that at all,” Brian argued. “Christ, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

 

Roger stared at him, eyes almost luminous in the light of the stars and moon. “You’re in love with me?”

 

“Yes,” Brian nodded, a desperate look on his face.

 

“Okay, okay,” Roger let out a quick breath. “Let me just…wrap my head around this.”

 

“I’m sorry this came out of nowhere,” Brian whispered. “You don’t feel the same and I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

 

“Who says I don’t feel the same?” The words slipped out before Roger could even think them. If it had been any other situation he would have laughed at the look on Brian’s face. Instead he held his breath and waited for a response.

 

“…what?”

 

“Everything is all twisted and confusing right now,” Roger frowned and tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “But…before all this I had feelings too. How could I not? You’re smart and handsome and kind. You put up with my shit which is more than anyone else has ever done.”

 

Brian’s entire body sagged in relief and a wide, goofy smile spread across his face. “So…”

 

“So, I don’t want…I don’t want to jump into anything now. I don’t think I can, and it wouldn’t be fair to you,” Roger sucked in a breath and reached over to place his hand over Brian’s. “But I want to someday.”

 

“I’ll wait,” Brian turned his hand over to thread his fingers through Roger’s. “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

 

For a long few minutes Roger just enjoyed the feeling of Brian’s hand in his. It was normal for Roger now to feel a wave of emotion crashing over him. He just hadn’t felt this kind of dizzying joy before.

 

It was something he could get used to.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning after chats with Freddie.

The smoke burned in a way it hadn’t before. Roger pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders to fight the bite of cool morning air and sucked in another drag off the cigarette. His eyes lazily followed how the smoke curled up and disappeared into the pink tinged sky.

 

It wasn’t even that pleasant. His chest ached something furious and he was fighting back coughs with every drag but it satisfied a deep urge in him. The urge had spiked when he woke up pressed against Brian’s sleep heavy body. It had only grown when he remembered their whispered confessions the night before and how he had asked shyly if they could share a bed, too scared to sleep on his own.

 

He thought that the smoke would help settle things, like it had before but his mind still swirled with confusion.

 

Honestly, Roger didn’t even know how he felt. He wanted so badly to just say those words back to Brian but they stuck in his throat. It wouldn’t be fair. He couldn’t let Brian be with someone who started awake every few hours in a cold sweat or who felt phantom hands around his throat. It was wrong.

 

“You son of a bitch,” Freddie’s voice sounded too loud behind him and he choked on the inhale.

 

The older man stalked up to him, coffee mug clutched in his hand. He plucked the cigarette from Roger’s lips and tossed it on the floor before stomping it out. Roger’s coughing fit subsided and he fixed a watery glare up at his friend.

 

“I had to be extra sneaky to steal that from Deaky you know,” he grumbled.

 

“The doctor said you can’t smoke. He said that your lung could collapse again,” Roger rolled his eyes at the lecture. “Are you ignoring his advice or just stupid?”

 

“Both,” Roger sighed and leaned back in his chair, he stared down at his hands and fidgeted. “Don’t…don’t tell Brian, okay?”

 

“He’d rush you down to the hospital anyway,” Freddie sat down, careful not to spill his coffee. “But you should shower so you don’t smell like smoke.”

 

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sunrise. It really was beautiful out in the country. The colors shifted slowly and stretched as far as they could see. It illuminated the gardens and house in a way that looked like a fairy tale.

 

“Brian kissed me last night,” he felt a sense of pride in how Freddie jumped and spilled a bit of coffee on his pants.

 

“What? He didn’t…shit, I thought he was going to take forever,” Freddie scowled. “Now I owe John fifty pounds.”

 

Roger whipped his head around. “What? You knew?”

 

“Darling, I’ve known for years,” Freddie wiped at his pants with his fingers, glowering down at the stain. “But Brian just told me about a week after.”

 

He didn’t even have to say after what. It was after everything had changed.

 

“So, I’m the last one to know,” Roger’s fingers twitched, wanting to hold that burning stick in his hand.

 

“Basically,” Freddie settled back, clearly accepting that the stain was there to stay.

 

Roger thought about what that meant. Had they been thinking about each other for years, acting like schoolchildren? It was ridiculous but it made something warm grow behind Roger’s ribs.

 

“Why didn’t he say anything?”

 

“He was scared I imagine,” Freddie shrugged and pulled out a cigarette himself. He raised an eyebrow at Roger’s glare. “What? My lung wasn’t popped like a balloon.”

 

Roger just responded by grabbing his half full coffee mug and taking a long drink. The silence returned as they watched the pink sky slowly turn blue. The sky looked different outside of London. There wasn’t the everpresent, oppressive fog surrounding them. For a moment, Roger thought about what it could be like to just stay here forever. He could spend every morning waking to the soft sunlight. He could hear birds singing outside the window. He could press himself into Brian’s gentle touch and they could never have to go out into the real world again.

 

It was a nice thought.

 

“Brian blames himself for what happened you know. He’s got some insane idea that he could have fought off that maniac,” Freddie finished his cigarette and stubbed it out under the toe of his shoe. “I’ve never seen him…I’ve never seen anyone as devastated as he was.”

 

“Fred…”

 

“Let me finish, okay? You mean everything to him. He felt like he lost everything,” Roger felt tears burn in his eyes but kept them on the brightening sky. “He didn’t sleep the whole time you slept. He sat next to you and…begged for you to wake up. He’s still scared. He still struggles.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Roger whispered, the ache in his chest having nothing to do with the earlier smoke.

 

“Because I know that no matter how hard you pretend you’re all better, you’re not. None of us are really,” Freddie reached over to squeeze his arm. “And none of us are going to get better without…well without each other. I know you have a tendency to shut down Rog but please, don’t. If not for you, at least do it for Brian.”

 

Roger held his breath until his lungs burned. He nodded slightly, blinking to clear away the tears in his eyes. Freddie kept his hand on his arm, thumb gently running over the soft fabric of his sleeve. It didn’t take long before the calm morning was broken by the door slamming open.

 

“Fred! Have you seen Roger? He wasn’t…oh, hey Rog,” Brian just about tripped over his own feet hurrying out into the garden. His body relaxed when he saw Roger sitting next to their frontman and he looked down, embarrassed.

 

“I made sure he didn’t wander off,” Freddie quipped.

 

“Have you been smoking?” Roger was instantly reminded of his father by the intense, disapproving glare Brian gave him.

 

“Course he hasn’t. That was all me,” Freddie lied for him.

 

“Fred, you know smoking around him is dangerous too,” Brian scolded but Freddie nudged his arm playfully, getting a smile from the blond. “I’m serious!”

 

“It won’t happen again,” Freddie put a hand over his heart. He glanced between the two of them, a wide grin spreading across his face. He jumped to his feet, trailing his fingers along Roger’s shoulder’s as he walked towards the door. “Some little bitch drank the rest of my coffee. I have to get myself a refill.”

 

The door shut closed behind him and suddenly Roger was incredibly over aware of Brian standing behind him. He could practically hear the way his breath shook in an effort not to hold it. He could feel the wide eyes on the back of his head but he just closed his eyes and sank down.

 

“You know how dangerous it is to be around smoke,” ah, so it was going to be a lecture. A familiar twinge of annoyance shot up Roger’s spine and he sighed.

 

“I know.”

 

“And it was only Fred smoking?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yup.”

 

He almost smiled at the frustrated huff behind him. Brian hovered for a bit longer before shuffling into Roger’s eyeline. The blond stubbornly stared straight ahead, not even sure why at this point.

 

“I just…” Brian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed. Then you weren’t in the bathroom and…do you regret what happened? What we said?”

 

Roger turned to frown at him and it all clicked. He had left Brian to wake up alone in bed, probably wondering if he had changed his mind and panicked. Feeling guilty, Roger turned to face him properly.

 

“No, I meant every word that I said,” he answered honestly and Brian’s shoulders relaxed. “Did you?”

 

“With all my heart. So why…”

 

“I needed some air,” Roger shrugged, chewing on his thumbnail. Again, he felt the itch for a smoke squirming under his skin. “And to think for a bit.”

 

Brian nodded and rocked back and forth on his heels for a bit. He turned to look out at the fields around them and smiled softly. “It’s really pretty out here.”

 

The blond hummed in agreement and smiled back. “We could live our days out here. I’ll put my hair in little braids and wear a milk maid dress. You can yodel and call the sheep back in.”

 

“That would be a sight,” Brian laughed loudly. “You’d look good in that outfit.”

 

“Damn right I would,” Roger smirked.

 

He would stay in this moment forever if he could. He could stare into Brian’s eyes dancing with laughter forever. He could ignore the threat that had lingered over him. He could just pretend that everything was perfect in this idyllic place.

 

Instead, he would just enjoy the peace that came from being with Brian.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger has a nightmare.

A sharp kick startled Brian awake.

 

He sat up straight, breath caught in his throat. Sleepy confusion seeped out of him when he heard a soft whimper to his side. Brian combed a hand through his hair and shifted back a bit so he could lean against the headboard.

 

The decision to share a bed had never really been discussed. Roger just climbed in under the covers with him. At first, they stayed as far away from each other as they could, barely clinging to the edge of the bed in an effort to not stray into the other’s personal space. Then they started drifting closer and closer until Brian couldn’t fall asleep without his hand resting over Roger’s heart, lulled by the steady beat.

 

Another whimper stole his attention and he looked down to see Roger curled up in a tight ball. His brow knitted and relaxed several times, his eyes darting wildly behind his eyelids. Again, his legs kicked out and his hands weakly pushed out at nothing in front of him.

 

“S-stop,” he breathed out and Brian felt something in his chest crack. “Stop. God.”

 

“Rog,” Brian whispered but it fell on deaf ears. It was clear that Roger was fighting a battle no one else could see. His movements got a little more aggressive and high pitched whines came from deep in his throat. “Rog, wake up.”

 

“Stop,” another groan. His breathing started coming a bit quickly and Brian gently laid a hand on his back.

 

Blue eyes snapped open and an elbow slammed back. The next thing Brian knew was white hot pain. Tears sprung to his eyes and his hands automatically jumped up to cover his streaming nose.

 

Roger lurched forward, hands scrabbling at his chest in complete panic. He gasped violently for breath and his eyes darted unseeingly around before they flickered to Brian.

 

“Oh…oh no, oh fuck,” Roger’s voice sounded breathy and strained.

 

His eyes were fixed somewhere on Brian’s shirt and he suddenly became all too aware of the metallic taste in his mouth. Blood covered his chin and the front of his shirt with just a few dots on the sheets but Brian could tell that Roger wasn’t really seeing what was happening in front of him. He was trapped somewhere else.

 

“Just…Jesus,” Brian staggered to his feet, hands still clasped to his nose and Roger seemed to come back to reality. He blinked furiously and stumbled after Brian into the bathroom.

 

“Did I do that?” He asked softly, hovering at the doorway. “Brian, did I do that?”

 

“It’s fine,” his voice sounded muffled to his own ears. He spat a few times into the sink, wincing at the thick red stain, and grabbed a towel. “It was an accident.”

 

“You’re hurt,” he had never heard Roger sound so soft. “There’s blood.”

 

He wasn’t wrong there. Brian glanced in the mirror and winced at the picture he made. He looked a bit like a horror movie with blood covering the bottom half of his face and his shirt. It didn’t hurt as sharply anymore, just a throb, but the quiet wounded noises Roger was making stung.

 

“Roger, I’m okay,” Brian pressed a wet hand towel to his face. “Seriously, I’m fine. Go back to bed okay?”

 

“Did I look like that? Covered in blood?” The question made him freeze and he met Roger’s eyes in the mirror. In the dim bathroom light his eyes looked gigantic and terrified.

 

“No.”

 

_You looked so much worse._

Roger stared at him for a long moment before spinning on his heel and hurrying to the bedroom. As quickly as he could Brian cleaned off the blood and opted to just strip his shirt off instead of finding a new one. Despite the rapidly bruising around his nose and eyes he decided he didn’t look too terrible. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle so he just mopped it up with tissue.

 

The sheets were a crumpled mess on the floor and Roger sat on the bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He let out a soft, scared sound which tugged at Brian’s heart.

 

“There was blood on the bed,” he whispered as Brian crossed the room to sit on the bed.

 

“The sheets were stuffy anyway,” Brian held the tissue to his nose a bit tighter and tears flooded Roger’s eyes. “Hey, hey. It was an accident.”

 

“It’s so fucked,” Roger choked out and scrubbed at his face. “It’s all so fucked up. I thought I was going to be able to deal with all of this. I thought I could just forget it and move on but…now I’ve gone and hurt you.”

 

Brian reached forward, gently cupping a hand around Roger’s cheek. The younger man leaned into the touch, tears wet against his palm. He didn’t give him anymore reassurances or anything, knowing that Roger wouldn’t let himself listen to them anyway.

 

“You sat with me for four days. Freddie told me you stayed with me,” Roger’s breath puffed against his hand as he whispered. “And I fucking freaked out because you…I would have lost my goddamn mind if I had to do what you did.”

 

“Rog-“

 

“I woke up and saw blood all over you and…” a fresh wave of tears streamed down his cheeks. “I don’t think it’s ever going to get better. Maybe I should sleep in my own room from now on.”

 

Brian thought about the nightmare and felt a spike of fear at the idea of Roger suffering through a nightmare alone. “I want you here with me…unless you really don’t want to of course.”

 

Roger’s shoulders relaxed and he let out a sigh. “Next time I hit you though you can kick me right in the balls.”

 

“It’s a deal,” Brian smiled.

 

They positioned themselves so they were laying side by side, hands still clasped. Roger’s eyes flicked over the bruising on his face and his brow knitted. His hand trembled in Brian’s hold no matter how tight he squeezed.

 

“You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt.”

 

“I know,” Brian soothed and gently pressed his lips to the back of Roger’s hand.

 

“I was dreaming of him you know. I was dreaming he was here to finish the job and…I dreamed he…that he killed you,” the color drained from Roger’s face and Brian got the uneasy feeling that Roger was slipping back into some terrible place in his mind. “So, I tried to fight him and then I woke up to see you covered in blood.”

 

“But I’m okay and you’re okay. We’re both still here,” tears burned in Brian’s own eyes as Roger broke down, burying his face in his chest. “Hey, we’re both okay.”

 

“It’s like he’s still fucking in me…like he’s in my mind. He’s hurting us and he’s not even here,” Roger’s voice was muffled. “It’s like I can’t get away from him.”

 

Brian pressed a kiss to the crown of Roger’s head, letting his own tears fall into his blond hair. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man, holding him as close as he could. “Oh Rog.”

 

“I see him everywhere. I hear him whispering in my ear when it gets too quiet. I feel him grabbing-“ he cut himself off with a violent shudder. “Jesus, he’s locked up and still right beside me all the time.”

 

They lay there, Roger held tight in Brian’s arms for a long, long time. The tears subsided into hitched breaths and trembling shoulders. Roger melted into his touch and soon he felt calloused fingers tracing circles along where the v-neck opened in his shirt.

 

“You’re the bravest person I know,” Brian whispered and Roger snorted in return. “And I’m so proud of you for opening up and talking to me.”

 

“Are you my fucking therapist now?” The words came out bitter.

 

“No, I’m your friend,” he felt Roger stiffen in his hold.

 

“You’re not just my friend are you?” The blond asked softly and he felt his heart skip a beat. “But…what even are we? We’re not just friends. We aren’t…I just don’t know what we are…and I’m scared that isn’t enough.”

 

He felt the way Roger’s hands twisted in shirt, like he was scared to let go. Brian’s hand skimmed up his back and gently stroked the skin at the back of Roger’s neck. “I know you’re waiting for the day when I say this is all too much for me but it is never going to happen. This, holding you right here right now, is more than I could have ever imagined.”

 

Another shaky breath stuttered out over his collarbone. “So you imagined your boyfriend punching your lights out in the middle of the night because of a scary dream?”

 

His heart fluttered at the word ‘boyfriend’ and squeezed him just a little bit tighter. “So you’re my boyfriend now?”

 

“Hmm, I suppose. If you still want to be with me and all my bullshit I’d be stupid to let you go,” Roger’s voice was thick but he tried to put on a teasing tone.

 

Brian leaned forward and kissed him gently, unable to help himself. The moment their noses touched, searing pain shot between his eyes and he jerked back with a hiss.

 

“Shit, sorry,” Roger frowned.

 

“It’s okay,” Brian squeezed his hand that lay over his chest. “It’ll give us something to look forward to.”

 

“We’ll see. If your pretty face is all messed up I might leave,” a sly smile, tinged with guilt, quirked at Roger’s lips.

 

“Oh shut it,” Brian rolled his eyes. “Let’s go back to sleep. Fred hopefully wont be wailing away in the kitchen until later in the morning.”

 

They both slept soundly through the whole night curled up in each other’s arms.


	12. Chapter 12

His drumming was off.

 

 The others were being too nice to say anything, but he felt it. Freddie had to stretch words to compensate for the changing tempo, John’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he tried to keep time, and Brian’s notes dipped every so often.

 

It was like his hands weren’t even part of him anymore. No matter how hard Roger tried to focus on the beat his hands were always just behind. His right one was even worse, and he scowled at how his wrists weren’t moving as fluidly as before.

 

“This is shit,” he announced loudly, and the music came to a halt.

 

Freddie was frustrated. He could see it in the firm line of his shoulders, but he just let out a huff. They hadn’t even started thinking of new stuff yet. The songs they were practicing were songs Roger had done a million times before.

 

“I didn’t think it sounded that bad,” Brian tried to smile but the smile faded at Roger’s glare.

 

“I can’t keep time to save my life,” he glared down at his hands as if he could scare them into behaving. “It’s making the music drag.”

 

No one argued that time.

 

His hand was cramping up, pinky and ring finger twitching faintly on their own. Roger winced and harshly rubbed at the long, raised scars along his arm. It hurt but they had only been playing for an hour. He couldn’t stop now.

 

“Let’s give Keep Yourself Alive another try,” he rolled his shoulders back and got into position.

 

“Or…we can try Killer Queen?” Freddie suggested.

 

Roger felt himself bristle and his jaw clenched. “I can do the solo Fred. I’ve done it a million times. I wrote the fucking thing.”

 

He at least looked at bit embarrassed as Roger tapped out the opening beats. No matter how hard it ached or how often the others turned to look back at him he did his best to keep up. He forced unpracticed muscles to move and ground his teeth.

 

For a time, it felt like he was flying. Roger felt his body give in to the music and couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face. It felt like home, it felt like he had come home after being away for a long time. By the time they got to his solo he was completely in the music. It had become part of him again.

 

So, when his arm seized up it felt like the worst kind of betrayal.

 

A gasp tore from his throat and the stick clattered to the ground. He screwed his eyes shut and gripped his arm tightly, wincing through the spasms. The rest of the music came to a stop and he felt his face turn red with humiliation.

 

“You okay Rog?” Brian asked, his soft voice making anger spark.

 

“If I can’t get through one fucking song how can I get through a concert?” Roger snapped.

 

“I just asked if you were okay,” he let out a long sigh at Brian’s words. “Let’s take a break.”

 

With a scowl, Roger threw down his other stick and stalked out of the recording studio. His hand was still twitching painfully but it had settled down slightly. He leaned against the stone wall of the house, wanting a cigarette so badly that he could practically taste it.

 

Moments later Brian stepped out. The older man looked a bit awkward, probably expecting another fight or blow up. Instead, Roger pushed himself off the wall and made his way towards him.

 

“How’s your arm?” Brian asked, wincing when Roger motioned to how his hand was curled up slightly. “Does it hurt?”

 

“Yeah, can’t straighten my fingers,” he huffed. Brian gently took his hand in his own and ran his fingers along the scars. With gentle pressure his hand relaxed and he was able to breathe again.

 

“I’m writing a new song,” Brian said conversationally, still massaging his arm. “It’s kind of folksy so no big drum kit needed.”

 

“Hmm, thanks for that,” Roger rolled his eyes and got a glare in response.

 

“I thought you could stand up at the front with me. Maybe a tambourine while you sing,” Brian shrugged and Roger felt a smile quirk at his lips. “I’d like to have you up there with me.”

 

“What’s the song about?”

 

“Space,” Brian grinned at the bark of laughter from Roger. “It’s about people who leave the planet on a mission for a year. Then, they come back. There’s a thing called the time dilation effect which means that time can move differently for different places because of gravity and whatnot…it’s pretty complicated.”

 

“A song about complicated space science,” Roger’s eyes sparkled.

 

“Anyway,” Brian continued loudly, getting a grin. “When they come back, they realize it has been a hundred years back on Earth. They were gone only a year but a hundred had actually passed. Everyone they knew was gone.”

 

“Well fuck, that’s damn depressing,” the smile slipped off Roger’s face.

 

“Maybe,” Brian shrugged. “I was in a kind of depressing place when I wrote it.”

 

Even though his hand spasms had stopped Brian continued rubbing at the thick ridges of his scars. They stood silently in the warm afternoon sun, just letting the quiet wash over them. Roger felt tired. The anger and frustration had left him feeling a bit drained.

 

“I think I’m going to tell John he needs to learn double bass for this song,” Brian broke the silence and got another laugh from Roger. “Want to keep practicing?”

 

“Let’s go try your new song,” Roger rolled his shoulders a bit and followed him back into the studio. Freddie and John jumped apart, clearly embarrassed at being caught whispering about them. Roger decided not to say anything about the forced nonchalant air they put on.

 

“Everything okay?” John finally asked.

 

“Super,” Roger look a seat on the old, worn couch. “Brian wrote a sad astronaut song.”

 

“Really?” That got Freddie’s attention. “When? Just now?”

 

“Yes Fred, I wrote a whole song in the five minutes we were outside,” Brian rolled his eyes then shifted on his feet. “No…I wrote it when…I was waiting.”

 

A sharp pang shot through Roger’s chest. Brian had written a song when he was waiting for him to wake up. Suddenly, he wanted to get as far away from the room as possible. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear what Brian had been through during those long days.

 

Brian picked up his acoustic guitar and fidgeted a bit. “So…this is kind of a rough draft in a way? I haven’t quite gotten all the parts in mind.”

 

“Play your dorky space song,” Freddie called out and John snorted in laughter.

 

The gentle strumming did nothing to quell the pounding of Roger’s heart. It was a nice melody and he saw out of the corner of his eye John tapping his fingers on his thigh, clearly trying to figure out the bass rhythm.

 

Roger had always loved Brian’s voice. He didn’t have the drama of Freddie but there was something beautiful about it. The lyrics were also so Brian. The silly science fiction feel made Roger smile and the old fashioned phrasing was perfect. He could picture Brian scribbling in his notebook, brows furrowed and nibbling at the back of his pen when stuck.

 

Then Brian sang the chorus and it stole the breath right out of Roger’s lungs.

 

_“Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away,_

_Don’t you hear me calling you,_

_Write your letters in the sand,_

_For the day I take your hand,_

_In the land that our grandchildren knew.”_

 

He wrote a song about someone calling out for someone. He wrote a song about someone desperate for the person they loved to hear them. The idea of Brian writing this as he lay there, unable to respond, made his chest ache.

 

Tears burned in his eyes as Brian continued the song. The idea of someone waiting for their love only to have them die was painful. Was that what Brian was afraid of? Did he sit there thinking that Roger was never going to wake? Did he think they had lost their chance?

 

“ _Don’t you hear my call though you’re many years away,_

_Don’t you hear me calling you,_

_All your letters in the sand cannot heal me like your hand,_

_For my life,_

_Still ahead,_

_Pity me.”_

The last few chords were strummed out and Brian let his hands fall to his side. He gave them an embarrassed little smile but Freddie clapped enthusiastically.

 

“I’m impressed!” Freddie crowed. “It’s really good! We can polish it up a bit but it’s really good!”

 

 

“Is your next song going to be about black holes?” John teased but Roger couldn’t even muster a smile. Brian glanced to him and froze at the tears in his eyes. Concern flashed across his face and Roger wiped his eyes before the other two could see. He waved his hand a bit, hoping that Brian understood, and was relieved when he got a nod.

 

They broke for lunch shortly after, John and Freddie walking ahead chatting about the song excitedly. Roger tried to follow but Brian gently caught his elbow, holding him back.

 

“You didn’t like it,” he sounded unsure and uncomfortable.

 

“No, it was beautiful. Honestly Brian, the song is lovely,” Roger struggled with how to explain his feelings. “And you wrote it after…everything?”

 

“I wrote it in the hospital,” Brian stilled looked uncomfortable.

 

“And the last line, for my life still ahead pity me?” Those were the words that had broken his heart. Brian’s shoulders sagged and he turned to look at the floor. “Was that about the hospital?”

 

Brian fidgeted for a long moment then stepped forward to pull him into a gentle embrace. “I thought you were going to die. I talked to you over and over and nothing.”

 

Roger nodded, knowing the words that remained unspoken between them. If he had died Brian would have suffered. The idea that he meant so much to one person was a bit terrifying.

 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Roger wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. Maybe for Brian’s fear. Maybe for not responding when Brian had spoken to him. Maybe for the whole situation.

 

“Me too,” Brian sighed and kissed the crown of his head. “But…it didn’t happen. You woke up.”

 

“Mmhmm,” he nodded and pressed his face into Brian’s chest. “Still fucked up.”

 

His chest shook a bit with laughter and Roger smiled, leaning back so he could see his face. He gently pressed his lips against the taller man’s in a soft, sweet kiss. It felt like a promise. It warmed every part of Roger and he couldn’t help the stupid smile on his face when they parted.

 

“You really want me to play the tambourine?”

 

“I do,” Brian swayed them back and forth a bit. “Want to see you next to me shaking it.”

 

“Stop,” Roger laughed and slapped him on the arm. “You’re a fucking idiot. I’ll do it though. It’ll be nice to be out from behind my kit sometimes.”

 

He couldn’t go back and fix the pain that had been. That would always linger no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. But, he could make sure that there would be no pitying in their life ahead. They could be happy and he would make sure to never miss Brian calling to him again.


	13. Chapter 13

The blisters had burst and hardened into calluses. His hands still stung and ached but they were beginning to feel like his own again and Roger couldn’t help but run his fingertips over the hardened skin over and over, a small smile on his face.

 

His arm still seized up occasionally but he had gotten better at continuing one handed until the spasm ended. The first time he dropped his stick and kept playing Freddie stopped singing and stared open mouthed, laughing loudly.

 

“Christ, you continue to surprise me. Going to play with your feet next?” He teased. Roger stuck his tongue out in response.

 

They had started moving from their old things to newer songs and it sparked something in Roger. It felt so good to brainstorm new ideas and rant about their thoughts to each other. This was why he was a musician, to create something beautiful out of nothing.

 

Then, he started to notice that everyone agreed with everything he said.

 

Usually, the band was very honest when they thought the others’ ideas were stupid. They argued and fought before coming to an agreement or compromise. It kept them all on their toes and any fight usually fizzled out quickly.

 

But no one was arguing with him. Roger offered ideas that he knew were not great and the other three nodded excitedly, agreeing. It irked him to no end. Were they just agreeing with him because of the attack? Did they pity him enough to not treat him like they used to?

 

So, he wrote a song.

 

The lyrics were honestly quite dumb and he snickered to himself as he wrote it. He made the song as suggestive as he could while keeping the theme, imagining the blush that would spread across Brian’s face.

 

They even looked excited when he announced that he had written something. Freddie clapped his hands together and John nodded quickly, a wide grin on his face. They settled down around his drum kit and for a moment Roger felt a bit bad about the act.

 

“It’s pretty important to me,” he started and their eyes softened, clearly expecting something like Brian’s beautiful song. “Be honest about how you feel about it.”

 

The opening notes went perfectly and then he started in on the lyrics. First, he noticed John cock his head to the side and narrow his eyes. Then, Freddie’s smile faded and was replaced with pure confusion.

 

Brian’s mouth dropped when he gave him a wink, crooning out “With my hand on your grease gun.”

 

They all remained silent as he played out the last few beats, stopping the cymbal’s ring with practiced fingers. He grinned at their stunned expressions and leaned back. Maybe things could finally go back to normal.

 

“It’s…something else,” Freddie finally said.

 

“The rhythm and sound was good,” John hesitated as he spoke and Roger felt his own smile fade. “It’s not bad.”

 

“I think we should make it a single,” Roger tried, desperate for someone to argue.

 

“Of course!” Brian nodded quickly, his smile slightly manic. “It’ll be great!”

 

Anger boiled in Roger’s chest. They were almost insulting his intelligence at this point. Was this how things were going to be from now on? Were they just going to continue trying to protect his feelings and treat him like glass forever?

 

“I want to sing lead,” he shot Freddie a look who nodded. “And I have solos planned out for you two as well.”

 

“Whatever you want Rog,” John looked unsure.

 

A few long beats passed before Roger threw his drumsticks at them, glaring as they dodged. “You all are assholes.”

 

“What?” Brian squeaked out, rubbing his arm where the stick had hit.

 

“I wrote a song about a car and you’re all just okay with it being our next single? You would have ripped it to shreds before. You would have laughed in my face,” he raised his hands up. “I’m not going to break. I just want you all to treat me like you used to!”

 

The only sound that echoed through the studio was his heavy breathing as they all gaped at him.

 

“Oh my God Roger the song is so weird,” John finally blurted. “I mean it is the strangest song I’ve ever heard. Cars? Really?”

 

“Thank you!” Roger held his hands out towards John.

 

“Wait, you wrote a song just so we would hate it?” Brian looked beyond confused.

 

“No! I wrote a song so that you would treat me like a valued member of this band! I want to hear your opinions and I want you to disagree with me,” he snapped. “Anything else is a fucking insult.”

 

They at least looked embarrassed.

 

“Rog…is the song about…fucking a car?” Freddie finally whispered.

 

“I don’t know!” Roger shouted back. “That’s not the point!”

 

“It’s hard to get past the fetishizing of a car Rog,” John said slowly, holding his hands up in surrender. “I mean…the lyrics were pretty suggestive. And…they weren’t very well written. It’s a bit obvious it was a joke.”

 

Well, ouch.

 

Now Roger was steamed. Sure the lyrics were a bit silly but the song wasn’t bad. He actually liked the way it sounded, lyrics or not.

 

“Well, I mean I did try,” he offered, getting raised eyebrows all around. “You assholes! It’s not that bad!”

 

“Now you’re arguing that it’s a good song?” Brian asked.

 

“No! It was one thing to argue about treating me like a child. It’s another thing entirely to question my song writing,” he put his hands on his hips angrily. “You are-“

 

“No car fucking on our album,” Freddie announced and Roger saw red.

 

He looked around before catching sight of a small closet. Fury ripped through him, making his chest feel tight, and he stormed towards the closet. He threw himself inside and slammed the door shut so he didn’t have to see his friend’s bewildered expressions.

 

“Roger, stop acting like a fucking child,” Freddie snapped and Roger kicked the door.

 

“No!”

 

“You didn’t even write the song seriously!” John argued. “It was a joke!”

 

“The song was a joke! I’m not a joke!” He kept kicking at the walls and door. “It’s my song and I want it on the album!”

 

He heard them murmuring outside his door but kept seething. Finally, there was silence and a tiny knock on the door.

 

“Rog?” Brian’s too soft voice calmed his racing heart a bit. “You’re being overdramatic.”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

“Rog,” his voice was a bit firmer. “Just ten minutes ago you wanted our opinion. When we give it to you then you freak out. What’s going on?”

 

He knew he was being ridiculous but he was too far in to go back now. Honestly, Roger didn’t even know why he was so upset about the whole thing. His emotions were all over the place and he started to feel a little embarrassed about his outburst.

 

“I’m tired of you all treating me like anything will break me apart…but I also want…I just want you to treat me like you used to. I want you to treat me like I matter,” he felt himself blush, knowing that he was being a bit silly.

 

“Of course you matter,” Brian sighed. “And we do care what you think. You are immensely talented, we all know that.”

 

Roger leaned against the back wall, huffing out a breath.

 

“Come out and we can talk about your song,” Freddie called, also rapping on the door.

 

“I’m not coming out until you promise it’ll be on the album,” he snapped and heard a long sigh.

 

“You know how stubborn he is. He’ll starve to death in there,” he felt a twinge of pride at John’s exasperated voice. “Let’s just put it on there.”

 

“Because you like it! Not out of pity!” Roger shouted.

 

“It’s the best song about car fucking I’ve ever heard,” Freddie said in a monotone voice. With a grin, Roger pushed open the door and stepped out.

 

“Good.”


	14. Chapter 14

His fingers trembled as he clipped the visitor badge on the lapel of his jacket.

 

Honestly, Brian wasn’t even sure how he was feeling. He was guilty, for lying to Roger and telling him he was visiting his parents. He was nervous to step into the interview room. He was angry, furious, at the man already in the room.

 

It made him feel nauseous. He had been feeling nauseous from the moment that the lawyer arrived, telling them that Dr. Nathan Godfrey wanted to speak to Roger one on one. Roger’s breathing had immediately quickened and he had fallen into a full blown panic attack. It had taken a long while of Brian whispering softly to him and stroking his cheek before he calmed down enough to choke out an “absolutely not”.

 

The lawyer had tried to encourage him to change his mind, saying that Dr. Godfrey had promised to give more information about the threats if Roger went to speak to him. Still, Roger shook his head almost violently.

 

As soon as Roger went outside with John for some fresh air Brian had requested to speak to Dr. Godfrey. Freddie had stared at him like he was completely insane, but he insisted. He had to do this. He had to talk to the other man and see him as a prisoner, not as the manic attacker he still dreamed about.

 

So, he lied to Roger and drove for several hours to the prison housing Dr. Godfrey until his trial could take place.

 

“He wasn’t too happy that it was you and not Mr. Taylor,” the mousey looking lawyer rambled as he followed Brian down the halls. “But he did agree to speak to you.”

 

Brian nodded, praying that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He had plenty to say to Dr. Godfrey. He had practiced what he was going to say on the drive over, having to pull over several times when tears blurred his vision.

 

“An officer will be with you at all times but he’s been a model prisoner so far,” the lawyer continued and Brian clenched his jaw. How could this man talk about that monster like he didn’t stab Roger eight times?

 

Then the door opened, and Brian got his first good look at Dr. Nathan Godfrey.

 

He didn’t look like the animal that had haunted Brian since the attack. He was a bit overweight and on the short side. Dr. Godfrey was balding, crown of his head shining in the fluorescent lights. He looked just like any one on the street. He looked entirely normal.

 

“I hope it’s not rude of me to say that you aren’t the person I want to talk to,” Dr. Godfrey gave him a sheepish smile as Brian slowly sat on the chair opposite him.

 

“No, but you won’t get to talk to him,” he was proud that his voice didn’t shake. “You never will.”

 

Dr. Godfrey’s eyes dropped and he heaved a sigh. “I suppose that is fair. Could I give you a message to bring to him?”

 

He pulled a folded piece of paper out of the front pocket of his uniform and held it out hopefully. Brian just stared at the paper, heart pounding. Did he actually expect him to just take it and bring it to Roger? After time passed and Brian made no motion to take the paper, Dr. Godfrey let it drop to the table.

 

“I understand,” he whispered.

 

“Why?” All the angry words and rants Brian had planned out were replaced by a single word.

 

“I can’t expect you to comprehend it,” the way he spoke put Brian on edge. He sounded like he thought he was so much better than him. “Many religions believe that soulmates are together for eternity, in this world or the next. Roger and I are soulmates. I knew it the moment I saw him-“

 

“In university,” Brian interrupted.

 

“Where you met him as well. Wasn’t he beautiful then? He was just a ball of energy…of light,” his eyes went a bit far away. “I couldn’t look away from him. Then he would speak up in class and I knew how incredibly intelligent he was. I just knew that we were…in different places in life. We couldn’t be together in this life so I thought I would give us a fresh start.”

 

“And kill him?” Brian’s voice cracked.

 

“It was the only way.”

 

“You’re completely mad,” Brian shook his head, feeling numb. “Absolutely mad.”

 

“I will admit that I could have done it differently. I did not want to hurt him, understand that,” he looked up at Brian, pleading. “If I could do it again, I would make it painless. It killed me to hurt him.”

 

Brian just stared at him, his heart pounding so hard that it hurt. The man in front of him honestly believed that he had done the right thing. He honestly believed that they belonged together and it sickened Brian.

 

“Why didn’t…why didn’t you ask Roger? Why would you make this decision for him?” His voice came out harsh and fast. “How could you?”

 

“You know Roger,” Dr. Godfrey shrugged and gave him a tiny smile. “He’s stubborn. He’s young and thinks he knows but he doesn’t. I know him. I know what is best for him.”

 

“You don’t fucking know him,” Brian hissed and the officer shifted next to him. “You thought he was a pretty face and decided that you owned him. He’s a human being and you caused him unspeakable fear and pain.”

 

Dr. Godfrey looked ashamed. “Please tell him I’m sorry.”

 

“I won’t tell him shit,” Brian shook his head hard. “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t want to hear from you. He just wants to forget you.”

 

“Then why are you here?” He looked honestly confused.

 

“To tell you to stop. Roger had nightmares every night. He had health problems that he might suffer from for the rest of his life. He is scared, terrified of every sound,” Brian knew he was ranting. “Stop the threats and just let him be.”

 

Dr. Godfrey stared at him before a knowing smile spread across his face. “You fell for him too? I’m not surprised. He is something magical. You’re just like me.”

 

“No. There’s a difference between love and obsession,” Brian argued back and knew it was the wrong thing to say.

 

“Now it’s love?” Dr. Godfrey shook his head. “So, you want me to sit back and let you take what’s mine?”

 

“He’s threatening him again!” Brian spun around to the officer who frowned and waved in someone from the hallway.

 

They stared forcing Dr. Godfrey to his feet, unlocking the chain that attached him to the table. He still had a faint smile on his face which made Brian feel like he was going to throw up.

 

“Please let Roger know I will see him soon,” Dr. Godfrey called over his shoulder and Brian felt himself shudder, gripping the edge of the table.

 

Even the lawyer looked disturbed as they led Brian back down the hallway. He signed out and made his way to the car before completely breaking down. Harsh sobs shook his body and he pressed his fist into his mouth to stifle the sound.

 

How had Roger suffered in silence for so long? Brian had only spent a few minutes with him and he could barely contain himself. For years Roger had avoided this man and read through sickening notes. He had been harassed for so long and pushed it aside, putting on the persona of someone happy and cheerful.

 

It was maddening.

 

What was even worse was that nothing had been accomplished by the visit. Godfrey hadn’t stopped the threats and he had seemed to enjoy taunting him. He was the monster Brian had thought he was. There was nothing human about the man who had stared him down over the table.

 

He could never tell Roger he had gone. He could never tell Roger what he had heard. He would go back to the farm and spin the lie about visiting his parents. He would smile and keep helping Roger heal.

 

Brian sucked in a few deep breaths, calming himself as much as he could. He turned the keys in the ignition and started driving back.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Angst, like whoa angst, a bit of smut, and a panic attack/PTSD
> 
> I can not express how much your comments make my day! Y'all are so supportive and lovely. I promise things will start to get better soon. Our boys will get better but there will be dark days too.

Something poisonous sat in Brian’s gut.

 

After his secret trip to the prison he had felt immeasurably guilty. Brian had hoped he would get answers but instead he was left with nightmarish words twisting in his head. He would look at Roger and had to choke down nausea, desperate not to let him know what he had learned.

 

Roger was doing better. He smiled more and threw himself into the music, seeming to come alive. In the isolation of the farm he had started to heal. He couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t stop this progress he was making.

 

And the progress was amazing. The nightmares lessened to maybe once a night or less. He would wake up to see Roger’s sleepy smile and relished in the sweet kisses. Roger had even started being more affectionate with Brian around Freddie and John who went a bit heart eyed over it.  

 

The teasing was light hearted, but Roger would smile as he rolled his eyes and snapped back a curse.

 

Then one weekend, John went off to visit Veronica and Freddie went to visit his family. It was nice to have the house to themselves and they took full advantage of it. Brian ran into town and grabbed a pizza from a tiny family owned restaurant and they ate outside on the patio.

 

The night started off peacefully. They chatted about the music, both excited about Freddie’s idea for a crazy operatic saga of a song. They recalled funny memories from their childhood and university. It was just a simple, thoughtless steam of conversation and it made them both feel warm and content.

 

“Have you even been with a man?” Roger blurted out, half empty beer bottle held loosely in his hand.

 

“I’m with you right now,” Brian teased and rolled his eyes at the glare he received. “But no…I haven’t. Have you?”

 

“A few,” Roger shrugged, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Quick flings when I was drunk and all. It never meant anything. Not like you do.”

 

Something unfurled in his chest and he felt a stupid smile spread across his face. “Why are you bringing this up?”

 

Roger kept his eyes up towards the sky before sucking in a deep breath. “Because this isn’t something I want to be a fling. I don’t want to rush into it and regret anything.”

 

“Regret what?”

 

“I’m ready to move further and I think we should talk about it,” Roger said matter-of-factly and Brian felt his mouth go dry. “Because we are adults and we love each other.”

 

“Uh huh,” Brian nodded slowly.

 

“Never thought I’d be the one initiating this conversation,” he said sarcastically, and Brian quickly shook his head.

 

“No! I’m just…you can’t just say you’re ready to have sex and have me not take a second to think about it,” he felt his cheeks burn. “But I don’t want you to be doing this because you think I’m…not able to wait or because you feel like you owe me anything.”

 

Roger stared at him for a long moment before getting to his feet and holding his hand out for Brian to take. “This isn’t about that. This is about the fact that I’ve been waking up next to a gorgeous man and am kind of tired of pretending that doesn’t affect me.”

 

Brian didn’t hesitate to take his hand, pull himself up, and pull Roger into a deep kiss.

 

It wasn’t like their usual kisses. It wasn’t sweet and soft. It was hungry and sent a bolt of electricity through Brian, his toes curling in his shoes. They broke apart, pressing their foreheads together, and just took a moment to catch their breaths.

 

“So, if I said we should go to the bedroom you would-“

 

“Shut up,” Roger laughed, kissing him again and practically dragged him up the stairs.

 

They paused every other step, kissing and gently touching each other between giggles. Brian’s heart pounded in his chest, unable to look away from the luminous smile on Roger’s face. He let out a loud shriek when Brian couldn’t help it anymore and grabbed him around the middle and threw him on the bed.

 

The rushed, almost frantic feeling died almost instantly. Brian hovered over Roger, just staring into his eyes and smiled as Roger’s gaze softened. The younger man pushed himself up on his elbows and their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss.

 

Brian pulled back for a moment to pull his shirt off and then tried to slide his fingers under the hem of Roger’s. Instantly, the blond stiffened and his own hands shot down to stop Brian’s.

 

“Wait…” he breathed, pulling back.

 

“Okay,” Brian froze, no matter how his fingers twitched and ached to touch the hot skin just out of reach. “Did I do something wrong?”

 

“No, nothing,” Roger’s eyes were closed tightly and his jaw was clenched. “I just…don’t want you to see?”

 

“See?” Brian frowned, confused. He had seen Roger shirtless hundreds of times. In fact, most of the time Roger preformed either shirtless or bare chested. Why would he be self-conscious now?

 

Oh.

 

Ohh.

 

The scars.

 

“Oh Roger,” he reached up to brush his thumb along Roger’s cheekbone. “The scars don’t matter. You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

 

Roger didn’t answer, brow furrowing. “I still don’t want you to see them.”

 

Carefully, Brian moved his hands back and tried to ignore how his heart broke at the way Roger’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He would never push Roger past his boundaries but he still wanted to show him how little he cared about the scars.

 

That day would come. It just wouldn’t be this day.

 

Roger seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in and reached down to unbutton Brian’s jeans. Again, his heart jumped as Roger helped him pull them down. They smiled shyly at each other as they continued undressing, curious fingers mapping over each other.

 

“You really are perfect,” Roger whispered against his lips and Brian felt himself blush. It felt hard to believe when he had an actual angel in his arms. “Honestly Brian, you are.”

 

It felt a little odd to lay in bed completely naked while Roger still had his shirt on. Brian could understand the hesitation and he wanted to respect it but he still craved the skin to skin contact. He pushed the thoughts out of his head and tried to enjoy the young man in his arms.

 

Then he pressed down a bit too hard on Roger’s chest, desperate to get closer.

 

“Stop, stop,” Roger gasped out, jerking back.

 

“Sorry!” Brian pulled back as well. “Did I hurt you?”

 

“No,” Roger closed his eyes tightly. “The pressure was just…here, let’s do it this way.”

 

He pushed himself up to his knees and pulled on Brian until he was on his knees behind him. Roger gave him a shy smile over his shoulder and leaned back against Brian’s chest.

 

The new position was nice Brian decided. He could scoot closer to the smaller man and kiss gently along his neck. A smile quirked at his lips when Roger let out a soft moan. A much louder moan burst from him when Brian wrapped his hand around his rapidly hardening cock.

 

“Fuck Brian,” his voice was high and thread, making Brian’s head swim with lust.

 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he stroked Roger slowly, unsure of what he was really doing but clearly he was doing something right. The younger man practically writhed in his arms and he couldn’t help but press himself up against Roger, gasping at the feel of hot skin against him.

 

He let out a groan and wrapped his arm across Roger’s shoulders, not noticing when his arm slipped up to wrap around his neck slightly.

 

“No! Stop!” The scream made Brian practically fling himself away. “Get away from me!”

 

Roger was still writhing but not in pleasure. He had somehow gotten a bit tangled up in the sheets and fought against them frantically. A high pitched keening sound ripped from his throat when Brian scrambled forward to help calm him down.

 

“Roger! Rog, it’s me. You’re safe,” the wild, almost feverish look in his eyes terrified Brian. “Sweetheart, please. Just breathe.”

 

It took a few horrible moments but then Roger was able to meet his eyes and sag a bit in his hold. Tears flooded his eyes and he choked out a sob, practically throwing himself into Brian’s arms.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, hands clutching at him almost painfully.

 

“There is nothing to be sorry about,” Brian whispered soothingly, rubbing his hands up and down over Roger’s arms. “It’s okay.”

 

“I couldn’t see you and then you grabbed my neck and suddenly you were him but you would never be him,” Roger rambled, pulling the sheets up over his lap in a desperate attempt to cover himself. “And I fucking lost it. Things were going good and I ruined it.”

 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Brian shook his head, leaning over a bit to grab his jeans.

 

“What are you doing? Where are you going?” The blond sounded completely panicked, hands skittering after him to pull him back.

 

“I’m just going to get my pants,” Brian scooted back towards him. “I didn’t think you’d want me to be naked.”

 

Roger shook his head and kept pulling until he was able to get Brian to wrap himself around him. The young man trembled in his hold, breath hitching with lingering sobs.

 

“I’m sorry I’m so fucked up,” Roger whispered. “I wanted this. I swear to God I did.”

 

“I know,” Brian whispered into his hair.

 

“I thought I was okay. I thought I was better and then something happens and I’m back there,” Roger’s breath quickened again. “I hate it. I fucking hate it so much.”

 

“I hate it too,” Brian felt tears prick at his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

 

“Bri-“

 

“Please let me talk without interrupting me. I wake up in the middle of the night having nightmares,” he kept running his fingers through his hair. “I feel so fucking guilty about that night. I was in arms reach and I could have fought him off.”

 

“You would have been hurt then too,” Roger whispered.

 

Brian sniffed and felt a few tears trickle down his cheeks. “It would have been worth it. I’d have died if it meant protecting you.”

 

In his arms Roger went completely rigid. He then sat up and smacked Brian as hard as he could on the chest. His face, tear streaked and pale, was twisted in absolute fury.

 

“Shut the fuck up with that! Don’t talk about me like I’m worth everything. I’m not!” He practically shouted. “I’ve had one person want to die for me already and it was far less romantic than you’d expect.”

 

“Don’t compare me to him,” Brian felt a bit of anger flood his veins.

 

Roger dropped his gaze, shaking his head slowly and the anger left. “I’m sorry. You’re…I’m fucking sorry.”

 

As gently as he could, Brian took his chin in his hand and pulled him in for a gentle kiss. When they broke apart he pressed their foreheads together and they both just sat there in silence. Roger threaded his fingers through Brian’s and let out a sigh.

 

“I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’ve said those words yet but I love you. You are the best person I know.”

 

“I love you too, so much,” Brian felt his eyes burn with tears again and Roger let out a bitter laugh.

 

“Well, aren’t we pathetic. We came up here to fuck and now we’re sitting here crying like babies,” he grinned at Brian and he couldn’t help but smile back. “I suppose the mood is ruined.”

 

“I suppose so,” Brian reached up to tuck hair behind Roger’s ear. “That’s okay though.”

 

Roger leaned into his touch and stared at him for a long moment. “You’re not going anywhere are you? You’re here.”

 

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”

 

Roger rolled his eyes and shuffled down in the bed, motioning for Brian to lay down with him. They just lay there, fingers tracing patterns on each other’s arms until Roger blinked sleepily up at him.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for understanding and being patient. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with. You don’t deserve to go through this shit with me. Thank you.”

 

Brian didn’t say anything, just kissed him on the top of the head and gathered him up in his arms. He was exhausted. He was exhausted of trying to react to Roger’s frantic mood swings and break downs. He was exhausted of trying to forget what Godfrey had said to him. He was exhausted of this whole situation.

 

But what could they do?

 

All they could do was whether the storm. He couldn’t let Roger down but God, sometimes he worried that he would break apart too.


	16. Chapter 16

Freddie walked down the creaky stairs, shivering a bit in the early morning chill. He wrapped his robe a bit tighter around himself and stepped into the kitchen. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his lungs and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

 

Then he caught sight of Roger sitting at the dining table and froze.

 

The blond’s usual spread of newspapers covered the table as always. He was usually curled up on the bench, legs stretched out in front of him as he read and sipped at his coffee. This time, he sat stiffly and hunched over the paper.

 

“Hey Rog,” Freddie walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a pot. “Anything exciting happening in the world?”

 

Roger didn’t answer, eyes still flicking across the words.

 

“Earth to Roger?” Freddie walked closer and then caught sight of the page he was reading. There was a picture of Roger, smiling after a performance, and next to it was a mug shot of a middle aged man.

 

_Roger Taylor’s Would Be Murderer Tells All_

Ice flowed through his veins and he moved to take the paper from the younger man. With a surprising quickness, Roger slapped his hand away and looked up with fire in his eyes.

 

“They interviewed him,” he hissed, jabbing a finger at the paper. “Like he is some celebrity. Like people give a fuck what he says!”

 

“Come on Rog, let me just take that,” he tried again and Roger ripped the paper back, tearing it slightly.

 

“No, no,” he had an almost manic grin on his face. “Let me read you the headlights.”

 

“Roger-“

 

“’How is love ever wrong?’” He stared down at the paper, his hands shaking so hard that Freddie was surprised he could even still read it. “’Godfrey seems to have delusional episodes and thoughts towards musician Roger Taylor. The obsession led to a nearly tragic end.’ Nearly tragic? It was pretty fucking tragic.”

 

“It’s a stupid tabloid,” Freddie said calmly.

 

“But they talked to the motherfucker! He goes on and on waxing poetry about me and…” Roger’s body shuddered, knuckles nearly white where he gripped the paper. “’I still love him, I never won’t love him. I dream about him every night and I know that, despite all our hardships, we will still be together.’”

 

Freddie swallowed back nausea and shook his head. He couldn’t stand hearing anymore, it was too horrifying.

 

“’I always think about him, thinking about what he means to me. I said as much to Brian May when…’” Roger’s voice trailed off and he went perfectly still, only his eyes moving to scan the words again. Then he let out a short, harsh breath and his lips pulls back in a snarl. “Motherfucker.”

 

The drummer spun on his heel and stormed up the stairs, robe billowing behind him. Freddie stared after him for a second before practically running after him, shouting his name.

 

“You ass,” Roger threw the paper at a clearly confused, still half asleep Brian. “You talked to him?”

 

“What?” Brian pushed aside the flying papers, blinking up at them. “What the fuck is going on?”

 

“You went to talk to that…that…thing? You went to the prison and talked to him?” Angry tears flashed in Roger’s eyes. “Was this when you said you were visiting your parents?”

 

Brian was now sitting up fully, looking through the papers with complete horror. His mouth opened and dropped a few times, like he was trying to find words and they kept escaping him. With every second that passed Roger got more and more agitated.

 

“What the fuck could you even be talking about? Were you two talking about me? Sharing fucking secrets maybe? Were you sharing fantasies?” Roger was practically foaming.

 

“Hey!” Freddie interrupted, shocked at the outburst.

 

“Of course not!” Brian scrambled out of bed. He was just wearing a pair of pajama pants and goosebumps instantly rose up on his skin. “Roger, how could you-“

 

“Because you said you were going to your parents and instead went to have a nice chat with the guy who stabbed me eight times!” Roger screamed out. Behind him, Freddie could hear soft footsteps and he knew that John was there.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Roger,” Brian breathed.

 

Roger just scoffed and shook his head, tears finally escaping to run down his cheeks. “Unbelievable.”

 

“Roger, he made a mistake. He-“

 

“Shut the fuck up John!” Roger exploded and then rounded on Brian again. “You lied to me. You lied to me because you thought I was too fragile to handle it. I thought I could trust you.”

 

“You can!” Brian took a few steps forward and let out a small wounded sound when Roger stepped back. “Christ, you know you can trust me.”

 

Roger sucked in a few deep breaths and then leaned against the wall, rubbing at his temples. “Why the fuck did you go and talk to him?”

 

“I had to understand. I had to talk to him to see if I could figure out what the hell was going through his head. I thought it would help,” Brian couldn’t even look at John or Freddie who still hovered behind Roger.

 

“Did it?” Roger wrapped his arms around himself.

 

Brian shook his head, looking heartbroken. They lapsed into silence once more and Roger sank down the wall to sit in a crouch. He let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thud.

 

“The lawyer called and gave me the court date,” the blond whispered. “So…I saw that you had talked to him and…it made me realize how fucking terrified I am of seeing him again.”

 

Freddie made a soft humming sound and walked into the room, taking a seat on the bed. After a beat John joined him as well and Brian lowered himself to the floor next to Roger. He placed a hand on Roger’s pajama clad knee and gently rubbed his thumb up and down.

 

“You don’t have to,” he said gently.

 

“I’ve been summoned to court. I have to testify,” he mumbled, staring at his hands. “I have to sit in a little room with the man who wanted to murder me and talk about everything he did. It’s fucked.”

 

Brian scooted next to him and wrapped an arm around Roger’s waist. The younger man lay his head on his shoulder and sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

 

“I’m still pissed,” Roger kicked at his leg lightly, he looked up at John and Freddie who watched them carefully. “What was he like?”

 

“Just a person. He was a creepy, fucked up person but he was just a person,” Brian squeezed his waist again. “And you’re stronger than him. You won’t let him beat you.”

 

“We’ll be there in court with you,” Freddie spoke up and John nodded vigorously. “You won’t be alone Roger.”

 

And he meant it. Roger and he had been friends for so long and it killed him that he was suffering. He knew Roger wouldn’t be alone when he had to face that monster. He knew he wouldn’t be alone when the media swarmed him afterwards. He knew he wouldn’t be alone when it was brought up again and again by interviewers.

 

This nightmare wouldn’t end with the trial but he wouldn’t have to go through it by himself.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Roger was uncharacteristically quiet as Freddie wound the tape over his knuckles.

 

“Okay, so you keep your wrist straight,” Freddie pulled mitts onto his own hands and clapped them together. “For this first one go left, right, left.”

 

He had been a bit surprised when Roger shook him awake at seven in the morning requesting a boxing lesson. They had pushed the dining table to the side to create some space and after a quick cup of coffee had started.

 

“Easy enough,” Roger got into the stance that Freddie had shown him and copied the pattern.

 

“Not bad, you can go harder though,” Freddie gave him a cocky smile. He blocked the blows, noticing that Roger’s injured hand was much weaker than his other. “Throw your body into it.”

 

Blue eyes narrowed slightly and he hit the mitts again, this time harder than before. Freddie praised the difference and prompted him to do it a few more times. Roger let out a soft grunt on the last punch, throwing his strength into it.

 

The punch landed awkwardly and Roger bounced back a bit, hissing. His injured arm started spasming and he gripped it. The drummer gritted his teeth and groaned slightly.

 

“You alright?” Freddie put a hand on his back.

 

“Just super,” Roger grumbled and straightened up. “Let’s go again.”

 

“Maybe we can take a break,” Freddie lowered the mitts and Roger shook his head sharply. He could sense the rising anger in Roger, a skill he had honed over years of being friends. “Get some water or something.”

 

“We’ve only been at it for like ten minutes!” Roger argued back.

 

“And your arm is…” he motioned to Roger’s arm getting a glare in response. “Regardless, you used to smoke a pack a day and drank like a fish. You never had much stamina to begin with.”

 

It was a gamble. It would either set him off or diffuse the situation.

 

Thankfully, Roger cracked a smile. “Ask Brian about my stamina mate.”

 

Freddie let out a gasp and clapped the mitts together, eyes bright. “No shit! I knew that you two would be fucking like bunnies. Tell me, if he proportionate? I mean, he’s like a giant. No…don’t tell me. That’ll be weird…but...yes?”

 

 

“We’ve actually not…we didn’t go that far,” Roger felt a blush rise on his cheeks. Of course he and Freddie had talked about sex. They’d talked about it in great detail over drinks or in teasing ways. But, that had been before.

 

“Well that’s disappointing,” Freddie sighed.

 

“Tell me about it,” Roger grumbled and flexed his fingers a bit.

 

“So, what’s stopping you? I know you both want to. The other night when you stretched on the couch I thought you would light on fire with how he was staring at you,” Freddie laughed but stopped as soon as he realized that Roger hadn’t looked up from the floor.

 

“I can’t,” he whispered.

 

Freddie frowned, trying to figure out what he meant. He knew that Roger enjoyed sex, had the misfortune of walking in on him enjoying it with various ladies since they shared a flat. Why would two men who were crazy about each other not being spending every second in bed?

 

“I don’t want him to see the scars,” his voice was so soft that Freddie barely heard it.

 

“Oh,” Freddie stared at him, unsure of what to say. “They can’t be that bad.”

 

“They are,” Roger let out a huff. “It’s awful.”

 

Then Freddie leaned back a bit and nodded to him. “Let me see.”

 

“What?” Roger let out a loud, disbelieving laugh. His smile faded and he raised his eyebrows when Freddie didn’t say anything. “Why the hell would I do that?”

 

“You won’t let Brian see because you think he’ll be disgusted or whatever right?” He asked, letting out a hum when Roger nodded faintly. “So, show me. I’m not fucking you, I can give you an honest opinion. You know I can.”

 

Roger rocked back and forth on his bare feet. “This is fucking stupid.”

 

“Strip,” Freddie motioned to him with his hand.

 

Warmth flood Freddie’s chest when he saw Roger’s fingers grip the hem of his t-shirt. He knew that this was hard for Roger. It truly made him feel honored that he trusted him so much. It was an incredible responsibility and he prayed that he could handle it.

 

With a deep breath, Roger pulled his shirt up and off, holding it loosely in his hand. Freddie tried desperately to school his expression into blankness so he wouldn’t show any emotion and spook Roger.

 

He knew that Roger had always been proud of his body. He wore open shirts and flaunted himself, enjoying the way people’s eyes would linger. The first thing he noticed was the way he curled his shoulders in, like he wanted to appear smaller and not be seen.

 

Freddie actually noticed the scars second. The knife wounds were white and still had red surrounding them. They were scattered along his rib cage and on his stomach, looking wrong on his otherwise pale and smooth skin. The surgery scar was the most shocking. It was thick and raised, running red down the center of his chest. It hurt Freddie just to look at it.

 

“Horrible right?” Roger mumbled, using the arm not holding his shirt to wrap around his middle and cover himself slightly. “I keep telling myself to move on but how can I when I have reminders literally etched into my skin?”

 

Freddie stayed quiet for a few long moments before stepping forward and pulling Roger into a tight hug. “Thank you for showing me.”

 

“Thank you for not running for the hills,” Roger tried to joke but his voice was thick with emotion.

 

“They’re bad but they don’t make you any less,” Freddie pulled back to look him in the eye. “You’re still the prettiest member of Queen. Now, you’re the most badass of us too.”

 

A true smile spread across his face and Roger laughed.

 

“He wont run,” the smile went a bit softer and Freddie squeezed his shoulders. “He’ll tell you how beautiful you are until you believe it too.”

 

“How can you know that?”

 

“Because he loves you,” Freddie said gently, tapping Roger on the nose.

 

Roger rolled his shoulders a bit and stepped back out of Freddie’s embrace. He sighed again and just stared at him for a long moment. “I know he does.”

 

They shared a smile and Freddie lifted his mitts up, raising an eyebrow. Roger pulled his t-shirt back on and slammed a few punches into the mitts, spurred on by Freddie’s encouragement. Then, he punched harder than expected and the hit slipped right past him.

 

“Shit!” Roger gasped as Freddie’s head snapped back. “Sorry Fred!”

 

“It’s fine,” Freddie pulled the mitt off and touched at his smarting mouth. He winced when he pulled away and he saw the red spots on his fingers. “Good punch.”

 

Concern morphed into humor and Roger burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he had to wipe tears from his eyes and sit down on the bench at the table. Freddie couldn’t help but grin and laugh as well. He didn’t realize how much he missed just being with his friend.

 

“What’s so funny?” John asked, walking into the kitchen and making a beeline for the coffeemaker.

 

“I punched Freddie,” Roger choked out between laughs, trying to stifle them behind his hand.

 

“Wait, what?” John turned, eyes widening.

 

“Nothing darling,” Freddie tongued at his cut lip, fighting back a grin. “I asked Roger to take his clothes off and he clocked me. Who’d have thought he was such a prude?”

 

“That only brought up more questions!” John threw his hands up in frustration and the other two descended into laughter again.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Smut (finally!)

The countryside was actually quite lovely.

 

It looked like a painting. Farms and fields rushed by, cattle grazed peacefully, and huge trees loomed over the road. John couldn’t appreciate the drive like he normally could because of the person rambling in the passenger seat.

 

“I mean, are you also annoyed by the number of chickens in the farm? They’re crowing before the sun I fucking know it,” he ranted, hands flying as he spoke. “It’s stupid. They wouldn’t even notice if one or two went missing. We could have a really nice roast.”

 

“Then we wouldn’t have those omelets you like so much,” John reminded him.

 

“Roosters don’t lay eggs genius,” Roger pointed out. “More meat, less crowing. Everyone wins.”

 

“We aren’t going to murder the chickens,” John sighed and Roger slumped in his seat, grumbling.

 

When Roger had approached him about tagging along on his weekly grocery trip he had happily accepted. He hadn’t thought that they were going to plan the murder of poultry. It was the first time Roger had left the farm and he knew he was nervous. It was still annoying.

 

The rambling only amped up as they pulled into the little town. He sat stiffly in the seat, hands twisting together as his eyes flicked around the buildings. When John finally parked along the curb Roger was practically vibrating in his seat.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” He interrupted the blond and Roger blinked at him. “We can just turn around and go back.”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head sharply. “No. It’s fine. Let’s get some lunch and get groceries.”

 

He was worried as Roger slid out of the car, pressing against the side of the car as people milled around them. The nerves and stress was obvious in the set of Roger’s shoulders and John instantly regretted bringing him along.

 

Then, Roger straightened himself up and crossed the sidewalk to the little café. John quickly followed, surprised by the sudden spike of confidence. He had fears that Roger would cave under the crowd of unfamiliar people but he didn’t.

 

They got a table on the patio. It was a bit in the corner which gave an illusion of privacy and John allowed Roger to have the seat with his back to the wall. He couldn’t help but notice that Roger’s smile seemed false and brittle when they ordered their coffees and sandwiches.

 

It took time for Roger to show even a hint that he had relaxed but it came. His shoulders started to fall a bit and he sat back in his chair a bit more. He still didn’t quite meet John’s eyes as they spoke, choosing instead to track the people walking past them. It broke John’s heart and he hoped that one day he wouldn’t have to see that caged look in his friend’s eyes anymore.

 

He turned the conversation to their album and Roger perked up. They joked about being the one thing holding the band together as the rhythm section. A sly smile spread across Roger’s face when he teased John about his love song to Veronica, grinning wider when the younger man blushed.

 

“Excuse me,” a tiny voice interrupted them and they turned to see two teenaged girls hovering by their table awkwardly. “Are you…Roger Taylor and John Deacon?”

 

“We are,” John spoke up, glancing at Roger nervously.

 

The girls let out a squeal and grinned at each other. The taller brunette put both hands over his mouth before gushing. “I’m so sorry! I know you were just having a nice lunch but we are such big fans.”

 

“Big fans!” The red head nodded vigorously.

 

“My copy of Sheer Heart Attack has completely worn out from how many times I’ve played it,” the brunette seemed like she might just cry, staring at them with huge eyes. “I know every single song by heart.”

 

“That’s very kind of you to say,” John smiled but Roger looked a bit uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. “Do you want us to sign something?”

 

The girls squealed again and snatched paper napkins off of a nearby table. John kept smiling and scribbled his name with a pen they handed him and passed it off to Roger with a raised eyebrow. The blond worried his lip between his teeth and did the same, passing the napkins to the girls right after.

 

“Thank you so much!” They clasped their prizes, eyes overly bright.

 

“Absolutely,” John gave them a nod and turned back to his coffee, trying to signal to the girls to move on.

 

The redhead lingered for a bit before taking a deep breath, clearly gathering courage to speak her mind. “Mr. Taylor…I’m so very sorry for what happened to you. I cried like a baby when I heard and I prayed for you the entire time you were in the hospital.”

 

Roger’s gaze softened and he sighed, giving a tiny smile to the teenager. “That’s kind of you.”

 

“My sister had a boyfriend who followed her around after she broke up with him. It was so scary,” she blushed bright red and looked down at his feet. “Sorry…I’m sure you don’t want to hear any of this.”

 

“It’s alright,” John held his breath as Roger replied, wondering if he should stop this conversation before his friend got too uncomfortable.

 

“When you were attacked it inspired her to speak up. She started an organization at her university to help people who are victims of violence,” the girl hesitated. “They have more members now and are starting to make a difference…anyway, I’m very glad you’re okay…”

 

The girl fell silent, clearly regretting speaking up. Her cheeks burned with a blush and she quickly turned on her heels to practically away from the discussion. Surprisingly, Roger took the napkin from her and scribbled a number on the back.

 

“If you ever want tickets for one of our shows give this number a call. Our manager Miami can get you as many tickets as you want,” he handed her back the napkin and she stared at it like it was made of gold. “And thank you.”

 

“For what?” She blinked at him.

 

“For reminding me that I have a voice and I need to use it,” he gave her a blinding smile and the girl grinned back. “Please thank your sister as well.”

 

“I will,” she promised and with a final wave the girls walked off, giggling together.

 

Roger sat back in his chair, looking contemplative. His fingers tapped on the table and his knee jiggled slightly. The hunted, nervous look faded slightly and the old confident Roger made an appearance. His eyes seemed a bit brighter and his shoulders were a bit stronger.

 

“You okay Rog?” John whispered and Roger jerked his head up, like he had forgotten that he was there.

 

“Great…super,” Roger shifted and gave him a smile, one that felt real. “In fact, I’m great.”

 

“Really?” John raised and eyebrow.

 

“Really,” Roger gave him a huge grin. “If some university student can bring attention to the problem why can’t I? Shit, I shouldn’t be hiding. I should be using my platform to speak up.”

 

John knew he should be happy for his friend, but a wave of worry rushed through him. As much as he wanted Roger to start building that confidence up again, he didn’t want it to hurt him. If Roger spoke up about his experience, he would bring up awareness. With that awareness would inevitably come backlash. He was terrified that it would bury him and he would lose all the progress he had made.

 

“Are you sure?” John leaned forward a bit, trying to think of a good way to phrase his concerns. “I don’t want you to…”

 

“The trial is coming up. The press is going to be there, and they are going to make me a victim,” a new fire sparked in his eyes. “I can either be the blubbering, crying victim or I can be the victim with something to say.”

 

“You’re not a victim Roger,” John said and got a look from Roger.

 

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing! Victim doesn’t have to be a word that means weak. It means I went through something and I made it out,” Roger spread his fingers out on the table. “People will read about the trial and I’d better have something to say.”

 

The worry was still there but it slowly gave way to pride. When they had first started getting popular John had been overwhelmed by the attention. He was so used to being in the background that it made him terribly uncomfortable. Roger on the other hand and soaked in the spotlight like he was made for it. He had been scared that he had seen the last of that Roger. Instead, he saw his old friend start to appear again.

 

“Do you think you can?” John asked, nervous. “I don’t want to say you can’t but…you’ll have to stand in front of cameras and reporters and…him and talk about what you’ve been going through. It’s going to be terrible.”

 

Roger’s overconfidence faded and bit and he sagged in his seat. “I know it’s going to be hard. It’s going to be horrible but…I can’t live with myself if I didn’t…I can make a difference. I can maybe help someone else realize they aren’t alone.”

 

John reached across the table and took his friend’s hands in his own, squeezing them. “You aren’t alone.”

 

“Not everyone has what I have,” Roger squeezed his hands back.

 

\--

 

Brian noticed that something was different as soon as Roger had come back to the farm.

 

He had been surprised when Roger had announced he wanted to go out with John. Even talking about returning to London would make the other man break into a nervous sweat. The sudden desire to get out of the farm left Brian worrying for most of the day.

 

John could take care of him, that he was sure of, but what if something happened. What if Roger fell into a panic attack and he couldn’t get him out of it? What if he hurt himself? Brian wouldn’t be there and he could never forgive himself if that happened.

 

Then, they had come back with arms full of groceries and Roger was smiling wider than he had seen in a long time. The younger man had even wrapped his arms around Brian’s neck and kissed him deeply, laughing into the kiss as John groaned and turned to put away the food.

 

He seemed happy. He seemed bubbly. He seemed like the old Roger.

 

By the time he curled up in bed with Roger he felt like he was in the clouds. The blond hummed and turned in his arms, placing a hand on his chest and smiling up at him so brightly he felt his breath hitch.

 

“Good day?” Brian asked softly and Roger laughed.

 

“Great one,” he moved to kiss his boyfriend gently, smiling.

 

For a long, long moment they just kissed. It was slow and lazy, relishing the fact that they were together and that they had this time. Brian reached up to gently run his hands through Roger’s soft hair and the younger man sighed. Nervous fingers fluttered at the hem of his shirt and Roger gently tugged it up, letting his hands rest on Brian’s bare back.

 

“Hey,” Brian forced himself to pull back. “We don’t have to.”

 

Roger shushed him, brow furrowing. “I want to. Let me.”

 

In a moment his shirt was up and off, thrown somewhere over the side of the bed. Brian had to admit that the calloused fingers felt amazing drifting across his skin and he had to strain all his muscles not to buck into his touch.

 

Then, Roger’s hands moved to his own shirt.

 

Brian held his breath and Roger froze, eyes going a bit glassy. “Hey, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s okay.”

 

Roger’s brow furrowed and he surged forward to kiss him again, almost desperately. “I…I’m feeling a bit brave today. Let me just do this before I lose my nerve.”

 

Hesitantly, Brian nodded. There were several aborted attempts before Roger sighed and closed his eyes tightly. He watched carefully as Roger clenched his teeth and then finally pulled his shirt up over his head.

 

Brian didn’t look down at his chest. He stared directly at Roger’s face, watching as a sea of emotions flew across. He smiled softly when Roger finally opened his eyes and reached up to run gentle fingers along his cheekbone.

 

“Are you okay?” He whispered.

 

“I don’t know,” Roger leaned into the touch and pursed his lips. “Maybe?”

 

“Can I look?” Brian stroked his thumb along his cheek and Roger nodded shyly.

 

It felt like the world rested on his shoulders. Brian took a deep breath and let his eyes drift down, tracing the gentle lines of his throat and the sharp collarbones. The scars were there and sent a chill down his spine but he didn’t allow himself to look away. They were proof that Roger had survived and that he was still here.

 

“Can I touch you Roger?” for a moment he was scared that his words hadn’t even come out since Roger didn’t move. He looked up to see tears flashing in blue eyes and was horrified he had said something wrong. “I-“

 

“I can’t believe you’re fucking real,” a giggle burst from his lips and a few tears spilled over. “I don’t know why I was so scared of this.”

 

Brian smiled and kissed him again, tasting the salt from his tears on his lips. He felt the hitching of Roger’s shoulders but he clung to him like he would fall apart without him. The blond’s hands gripped at his back and arms, digging into the skin.

 

“I won’t ever hurt you,” Brian whispered against his lips, feeling tears in his own eyes. “I won’t ever leave you. I promise you Roger.”

 

Roger bit his lips as Brian let his hands drift down from his cheek. He trailed his fingers along the slender neck and partially down his chest before meeting the first scar. It was thick and rough, making Roger instantly squirm uncomfortably.

 

“Is this okay?” He asked and Roger nodded nervously.

 

The scars felt wrong against the soft skin but he didn’t let himself think about it. He wasn’t touching scars, he was touching Roger. He was finally touching the person he had dreamed about for so long and some stupid scars were not going to ruin this moment.

 

“You’re fucking beautiful Roger,” his voice was thick. “Jesus, you’re stunning.”

 

Roger’s fingers grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. He stared intently, like he was searching for something before nodding. He kissed him again and then his hands moved to tug at Brian’s pajama pants, and he gasped sharply.

 

“Rog, I-“

 

“If you ask me if I’m sure one more fucking time I’ll kick you out and take care of myself,” Roger growled against his lips and a spark of electricity raced from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

 

In no time at all they had stripped themselves of all their clothes. Both men moaned low in their throats as their bodies touched for the first time, hot skin meeting hot skin. Roger’s body shuddered and he gripped at Brian’s hair tightly.

 

As soon as his hips rolled forward it all snapped. They rocked together, hard and desperate. Moans were trapped between them and Brian couldn’t help but cry out when Roger dipped his head to nip at his throat.

 

“Shh,” Roger giggled against his throat, sounding delightfully breathless. “Freddie and John will hear.”

 

“I don’t fucking care,” Brian gasped back, grabbing Roger’s hips in his hands and pressed them even tighter together.

 

It didn’t take long before they both tumbled over the edge. Roger came first, rutting against Brian’s hip and letting out high pitched whines against his shoulder as he sank in his teeth. Brian followed right after, overwhelmed by the hot spill against his stomach and chest.

 

They remained pressed against each other, panting hard, until the sensitivity became too much and they flopped onto their backs. As soon as Brian caught his breath he gave Roger a sweet kiss and then tiptoed to the door, ready to make the short run to the bathroom for a wet towel.

 

When he slipped back in, washcloths in hand, he was met with the sight of a giggling Roger. He actually had to stop and stare at the young man, stretched comfortably out naked on the bed. A grin spread across his face and Brian threw the washcloth at Roger.

 

“Did you scar anyone with your mad dash?” He asked teasingly as he wiped himself clean.

 

“Not this time,” Brian laughed and crawled back into bed. He propped himself up on his elbow and smiled down at Roger, reaching out to smooth down messy blond hair. “So…”

 

“So?” Roger grinned at up him, pushing himself up to kiss him gently.

 

“How was it?” He asked softly, stomach twisting.

 

Roger gave him a few more pecks before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Do you want me to tell you how it was? Does Brian May like being told how great he was at sex?”

 

“Roger,” Brian rolled his eyes but grinned.

 

“Want me to tell you how much I liked your big cock next to mine?” Roger’s voice went low and dirty and the smile fell completely off of Brian’s face, replaced by shock. “Or that I loved how hard you thrust against me? Is that what you want to hear?”

 

“You minx,” Brian kissed him deeply. They both descended into giggles and pressed their foreheads together.

 

“Or, do you want me to tell you that it was the best I’ve ever had? That I felt so safe and loved?” His eyes were so warm and soft, making Brian feel giddy. “That I’m so lucky to have you?”

 

Brian couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face. His cheeks ached and his chest felt too tight. He reached up to brush blond hair back and just let his fingers map out the curves of his face.

 

Who was the lucky one here?


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I know absolutely nothing about court proceedings. Everything here is based off of TV shows so please forgive any inaccuracies :)

Roger was terribly calm as they waited in a conference room.

 

He was dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit with gold accents (picked out by Freddie after hours of failed attempts) and his hair was neatly styled. Brian thought he looked a bit like a movie star, ready to go and film. In fact, he would have thought he was the greatest actor known to man based on how unbothered by the situation he seemed.

 

But Brian could see the little cracks. He could see the way the younger man just stared ahead, not really listening to the lawyer as he explained what was about to happen. He could see the way his shoulders were set too stiffly, they had been since they had pushed through the crowd of reporters hovering by the courthouse like vultures. He could see the way his knee jiggled nervously, the only part of his body moving.

 

“And I think that’s all!” The lawyer, Kevin Jeffers, grinned and clapped his hands. He was a thin balding man with a kind smile. Brian liked him instantly. “Let’s go get a man put in jail.”

 

It was surreal walking into the courtroom. Roger kept his head held high as they took their place behind the prosecutors, ignoring the completely full room. Despite his desperate attempt to act completely calm he did let his fingers intertwine with Brian’s when he lay his hand palm up on the bench next to him.

 

A door on the opposite side of the courthouse opened and Roger completely froze. Two of the defense’s lawyers walked in followed by a police officer and a man in handcuffs.

 

Nathan Godfrey looked around the room and his face completely lit up when he saw Roger sitting in the audience. As soon as their eyes met Roger’s entire body shuddered and he leaned towards Brian, subconsciously seeking comfort. Godfrey grinned brightly like he had been given the greatest gift ever. He didn’t look away as they introduced the judge, seemingly entrapped by Roger sitting nearby.

 

“And now for the opening statements,” the judge glanced down at some papers in front of him. “Mr. Jeffers from the prosecution.”

 

The lawyer gave them all a confident smile and stood up, straightening his jacket before walking to the front of the room. Brian felt the back of his neck burn red, sensing that everyone in the room just about leaned forward to hear as well as they could.

 

“We are not here to determine if Dr. Nathan Godfrey attacked my client or not. He stalked and tormented Mr. Taylor for years and then attempted to kill him in a desperate, delusional attempt to stay with him,” Kevin motioned to Godfrey who frowned. “We are not going to debate if this happened because it did. There were many witnesses to this heinous crime. We are here to determine if Dr. Godfrey is a continued threat. This man here is a danger. He must be given the maximum sentence. He will tell you that what he did was out of love. There was no love here. Love does not cause you to hurt or torture.”

 

Godfrey leaned over to his lawyer and hissed something to him, looking distressed.

 

“Don’t allow this man to get away with what he has done. Don’t allow him to take more than he has already taken,” Jeffers pointed at Godfrey and got a glare in response. “He has committed a terrible crime and he will do it again. It’s up to you to stop that from happening. Thank you.”

 

He took a seat and nodded to the four of them, glancing at the jury who were now watching as Godfrey’s lawyer walked up to take his place. Brian couldn’t imagine how this could possibly go his way. How could a jury see him as anything else but a monster?

 

“We are all aware of what Dr. Godfrey has done and we do not need to rehash that,” the rather harsh looking woman nodded to the jury. “But it is not fair for the prosecution to downplay the feelings of my client. Dr. Godfrey, an esteemed professor of biology, just followed what he was teaching. He had fallen in love with a man who he felt was unobtainable. We have all loved someone we didn’t think could love us back. The rush of hormones impacted an already unstable mind. It wasn’t his fault what he did. He couldn’t control himself.”

 

“Fucking bullshit,” Freddie mumbled next to him and John nodded, eyes dark.

 

“It is unfair to sentence a mentally ill man to prison. He needs to be treated so that he can become a contributing member of society. It is terribly unfortunate what happened, but we can help this man,” the woman held her hands out in a pleading motion.

 

Roger’s eyes had narrowed and he sat so far on the edge of the bench that it was a miracle he didn’t just fall off. His jaw was clenched so tight that Brian was a little scared of broken teeth. He had expected Roger to be scared or nervous, not incredibly angry.

 

The doctor who had been in charge of Roger’s case was the first witness called to the stand. Brian felt a bit faint as he went through the extent of Roger’s injuries, discussing them in great detail. He had seen the horrors of the event and the aftermath but it was almost too much in hearing about how they had to repair lacerations to his stomach and liver.

 

When the pictures came out John lifted his hand to shadow his eyes, looking almost green. Freddie also looked away and shuddered, his breath hitching as the various injuries were pointed out.

 

“Hmm, looks like we’re looking at someone else eh?” Roger almost sounded like he was joking when he leaned over to whisper in Brian’s ear.

 

Brian stared at him, heart practically skipping a beat. It might have seemed like it was some random person’s nightmare if he hadn’t stared down at those very real wounds himself. He just let his hand rest on Roger’s thigh and squeezed, letting Roger know that the misplaced humor was not helping. The blond leaned a bit into the touch and covered his hand with his own.

 

“Were these injuries life threatening?” Jeffers asked and the doctor nodded, face grim.

 

“Mr. Taylor was very lucky that the attack was in a public place. A few minutes more and he would have bled to death,” the way he phrased it made Brian feel cold.

 

What if Godfrey had shown a bit more restraint and attacked him when he stepped out for a smoke? Could Roger have lay out behind the venue, bleeding and dying with no one noticing?

 

“The prosecution calls Mr. Roger Taylor to the stand please,” the mask of indifference cracked at that moment. Roger grasped his hand and squeezed so hard that Brian could feel his bones grind together. Then he blinked a few times and stood, carefully smoothing down his suit and making his way to the stand.

 

Brian wasn’t a violent person but he wanted to kill Godfrey for the excited look on his face as he leaned forward, fingers spread on the table.

 

“Please state your name for the record,” Jeffers said and Roger cleared his throat.

 

“Roger Meddows Taylor,” his voice was clear and strong. Brian couldn’t believe the amount of pride he felt at how confident Roger seemed, head held high and eyes locked on the lawyer.

 

“Could you please recount the attack,” Jeffers looked sympathetic.

 

“We had just finished a show. I was following the other guys-“

 

“The other members of Queen?” Jeffers interrupted and he nodded slightly.

 

“Yeah. Freddie, John and…Brian. I was following them to the dressing room and we walked through a few cameras. They like to get pictures of us going off stage…I guess it’s one of those behind the scene things,” Brian could tell he was stalling. Cracks in his mask were becoming more apparent now. Roger shrank back a bit and his eyes had a blank look to them.

 

“And that is where you encountered Dr. Godfrey?”

 

“Yes,” Roger’s voice was so soft it was barely picked up by the microphone. “He grabbed me from behind and then he…then he stabbed me.”

 

Brian felt numb. He wanted so badly to run up to Roger and pull him away from the eyes staring at him. It was obvious that his friends felt the same way with the tears shining in Freddie’s eyes and the way John had his hands clenched into fists at his side.

 

“Did you see Dr. Godfrey?” Jeffers asked and Roger shook his head after a moment.

 

“No. I heard him,” Roger seemed like he was straining every muscle in his body to not look at Godfrey. Brain could see the fine tremors running through his body and his heart ached at what Roger had to be going through.

 

“He spoke to you?”

 

“He…he said that…that it would all be over soon,” Roger’s voice came out tight. “He said that because he was crazy and thought that we would actually be together in the next life.”

 

“Objection!” Godfrey’s lawyer snapped out, making Roger jump. “Improper characterization.”

 

Roger’s eyes flicked back and forth between Jeffers and the defense lawyer, looking terrified. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

 

“It’s quite alright Mr. Taylor,” Kevin gave him a warm smile and Roger relaxed slightly. “Last question, do you feel like your life would be in danger if Dr. Godfrey were to walk free?”

 

Finally, Roger let himself look at Godfrey and a spark of fear flashed through his eyes. “Yeah. I do.”

 

“The prosecution rests,” Kevin said to the judge and walked back to his chair, giving a reassuring smile to the other three as he sat down.

 

Godfrey’s lawyer was a very severe looking woman. She wore a black suit and had her dark hair up in a tight bun. In fact, Brian didn’t think the woman had ever smiled in her life. She adjusted her thick rimmed glasses and fixed Roger with a long look.

 

“Mr. Taylor,” she said, voice sharp. “Is it true that you had a relationship with Dr. Godfrey before the incident?”

 

“What? No!” Roger shook his head and frowned.

 

“But you did know him?” She raised an eyebrow.

 

“I…I was in a class he assisted in when I was in university. We spoke like three times,” Roger shifted in his seat. “But no, we were absolutely not in a relationship. I honestly didn’t even know who he was besides ‘the professor’s assistant in my biology class’.”

 

A short, wounded sound came from Godfrey and Brian felt sick. The older man looked _devastated_ at that. He actually looked like it was news to him and it rocked his world.

 

“You had a correspondence with Dr. Godfrey correct?” The lawyer continued, seemingly unfazed by her client’s reaction. “He attempted contact outside of class. Tell us about that.”

 

Roger’s mouth tightened to a thin line. “He started sending me gifts and letters.”

 

“Please elaborate on the nature of these gifts and letters,” she fixed him with another long look and Roger let out a short breath.

 

“The gifts were things like candy, flowers and clothes,” Roger waved his hands a bit, clearly trying to find some way to occupy them. “And the letters were…personal. Sexual…and declarations of love.”

 

“But you don’t have any copies of these alleged letters?” The lawyer asked and Brian’s stomach dropped.

 

“No, I threw them away. I didn’t want to see them,” Roger’s voice was equally tight, his eyes boring into the lawyer’s.

 

“Then could you please be more specific about what was in these letters?”

 

Roger stared at her blankly and then shook his head, looking at Kevin and then the judge. “Why is it so important to know?”

 

The lawyer let out a short huff, like he was wasting her time. She gave the jury a long-suffering look and Freddie stiffened next to him. “We need to know the details of the letters to prove that you felt like you were in danger.”

 

“Objection,” Kevin shouted out, raising his hand in disbelief. “You can’t expect my client to recall letters that are not in evidence.”

 

“Noted. The letters are not in evidence so we cannot discuss the contents of them,” the judge said simply and the lawyer nodded.

 

“Of course,” she cleared her throat. “In the conversations that you had with Dr. Godfrey did you at any point discuss a relationship?”

 

“No! Our conversations were…about assignments or due dates,” Roger sounded frustrated and Brian felt a surge of worry. The lawyer knew what she was doing in riling him up. “The only times I heard about this imaginary relationship was in the letters I got and I threw those away.”

 

“Did you ever respond to Dr. Godfrey?”

 

“No. I just ignored them. I hoped he would just give up and stop,” Roger shrugged. “I stopped opening them after a while.”

 

The lawyer cocked her head. “So, you’ll admit that you did not try to dissuade Dr. Godfrey’s advances?”

 

Roger’s eyes went icy. “It is not my job to tell men to stop talking to me. I made it obvious that I wasn’t interested and he didn’t get the hint.”

 

“Do you do this often with men? Lead them on?” The lawyer asked and Kevin shouted out another objection as Roger gaped at her.

 

“Fucking bitch,” John hissed and Brian was too furious to even be shocked at their soft spoken bassist’s language. It was obvious that Roger was getting flustered and looked a bit lost. He kept shifting in his seat and glancing around the room like he hoped someone would get him out of the situation.

 

“I didn’t ask for this,” Roger’s voice cracked. “I didn’t ask for someone twenty years older than me to constantly tell me how much he wanted me in his bed. I didn’t ask for him to tell me how badly he wanted to keep me at home like a pet. I didn’t ask for him to stab me.”

 

“Of course,” the lawyer nodded. “The defense rests.”

 

Roger blinked furiously when the judge dismissed him and practically fell into his place at Brian’s side. He was shaking, shoulders hunched and breath hitching. He then shrank down a bit and pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.

 

“You’re alright,” Brian whispered as they called up Godfrey’s prison psychologist to the stand. He gently lifted a hand to rub along the back of Roger’s neck, heart breaking as the other man blinked back tears. “Hey, you’re alright. You did so good. I’m so proud of you.”

 

“I didn’t lead him on,” Roger looked at him a bit desperately.

 

“No, you didn’t,” Brian scooted closer to him so their sides were pressed together.

 

 The psychologist went on and on about how Godfrey showed showed signs of delusions. He recommended that the man be institutionalized and treated, not punished and sent to prison. At that Brian went a bit lightheaded. Godfrey could be out in no time if they used the insanity plea. He could be on the street and find Roger.

 

But that panicked thought turned to white noise when Godfrey himself went up to the stand.

 

The man still stared at Roger like the sun rose and set because of him. He grinned widely when he met Roger’s eyes and the blond sank further down in his seat. Brian shifted a bit, moving his shoulder in front of Roger’s in a vain attempt to block his view.

 

“Tell us about your first meeting with Mr. Taylor,” Kevin asked and Godfrey blinked at him like he hadn’t even noticed anyone else was in the room.

 

“I was an assistant to Raymond Platt in his introduction to biology course,” Godfrey started, eyes not straying from Roger. “Roger was in the nine o’clock class. He came in to class a few minutes later wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt. I was passing out syllabuses and he took one from me. He said thank you and I was…well, that was it for me.”

 

Roger’s grip was painful.

 

“So, all you did was give him some papers?” Kevin asked.

 

“That day! He asked me about due dates or about formats for assignments,” Godfrey smiled. “But I could tell that he was just finding an excuse to talk to me. He was flirty, giving me these looks and smiles.”

 

Kevin nodded slightly. “Why did you continue to try to initiate a relationship with Mr. Taylor?”

 

Godfrey looked a little chagrined by that. “I thought he was just playing hard to get. Word got around that he had been with a few people in his class and major and I thought he was doing the same to me. I…I thought, maybe foolishly, that he would see that I was different, that I actually liked him. I didn’t mean anything threatening. I just wanted him to see how special I thought he was.”

 

The most horrible thing about it was that maybe Brian could see how the jury would feel sympathetic. This lonely, sad older man falling for an attractive young man who was known to flirt around? They might just see his sad, desperate eyes and believe that he just was tipped a bit too far.

 

They didn’t have to wake up to Roger screaming in his sleep. They didn’t have to see the way his trembling fingers traced along his scars when he didn’t think anyone was looking. They didn’t have to see the way he flinched if people moved up too quickly on him.

 

They just saw a sad old man and a rock star with a reputation for being a bit of a playboy.

 

“If you cared for him so much why did you stab him?” Kevin’s voice was soft and tears filled Godfrey’s beady eyes.

 

“I didn’t want to hurt him…please Roger, know that,” Roger stiffened when Godfrey looked at him directly, pleading. “I could never hurt you. I never wanted to cause you pain.”

 

“Please speak to the court, not to Mr. Taylor directly,” the judge warned and Godfrey nodded miserably.

 

“When Queen came out with their first album I was so proud. I knew that he loved music and he was so damn talented at it,” Godfrey sighed. “I also knew that fame would drive him further away from me. I felt hopeless. I knew that we…when you find your soulmate you just know. I knew that we both would never be happy if we weren’t together. I understand now that it…it was a bit insane but at the time it seemed to be the only way we could be together. Like, Romeo and Juliet or something. I just loved him so much and I wanted him to be happy. I know I was wrong. I’ve been speaking to a therapist and I know how incredibly wrong I was. I just pray that I will get a second chance and make this right.”

 

Brian worried that he might be having a heart attack. The rest of Godfrey’s questioning passed by in a blur and he couldn’t look away from the devastated, lost look on the man’s face. He looked so sincere during his whole time on the stand, like he truly believed everything he said and was torn up about what had happened.

 

Next to him Roger didn’t seem to be faring much better. His hand shook in Brian’s grip and he stared blankly forward as the lawyers gave their closing statements. He didn’t even react to Brian’s hopefully reassuring squeeze back, instead standing up silently when the judge let the jury go deliberate. They were led into the same conference room they had started the morning off in.

 

As soon as they stepped in Roger turned to John, body stiff and awkward. “Give me a cigarette.”

 

“Rog,” Brian started but froze when an icy glare was shot his way.

 

“Give me one,” he held a hand out and John hesitated, looking between Brian and Roger worriedly. That was clearly the wrong move. “Fuck’s sake John! Don’t look at him! Give me the goddamn smoke!”

 

“Stop it!” Freddie shouted and then glanced at the closed door. “You’re not going to smoke. We’re just going to sit here and wait.”

 

Roger sank down into a chair, dropping his head into his hands. His shoulders rose and fell quickly, like he was not quite crying but trying to keep himself from completely falling apart.

 

“They’ll have to put him away, right?” Freddie asked, leaning against the wall and nervously tapping his fingers against the wood grain. “I mean, he did it. He fucking admitted to it.”

 

“He admitted to being a pathetic old man who went too far on a crush over the school slut,” Roger mumbled through his hands. “It doesn’t make him seem all that evil. It just makes him look sad.”

 

The jury came to a decision just an hour and a half later. It felt like they were walking to an execution, each step heavier than the last. Roger had gone pale, even swaying slightly in his seat when Godfrey stood so the jury leader could address him.

 

“On the count of assault with a deadly weapon the jury finds the defendant Doctor Nathan Godfrey guilty,” the older man sagged a bit in defeat and Roger let out a shaky breath.

 

 “On the count of attempted murder the jury finds the defendant Doctor Nathan Godfrey not guilty,” and the world crashed down.

 

Roger practically leapt to his feet, taking long strides so they had to scramble to catch up with him. His face was set into a stone mask and his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. The door slammed open with a crack and Roger almost jogged down the stairs, making a beeline for their waiting car.

 

“Mr. Taylor!” Cameras and reporters crowded him so fast that they couldn’t block their way. “What are your thoughts on the outcome of the trial?”

 

One camera got a bit too close and Roger lost it. He shouted out a string of curses and shoved them back, snarling angrily. Instantly, Freddie linked his arm through Roger’s and pulled him to the car, walking so quickly that Roger almost had to jog to catch up.

 

Brian followed close behind, chest tight and eyes burning. He slid into the car as well, eyeing Roger nervously. The young man was pressed again the opposite side of the car, legs pulled up to his chest and hands pulling at his hair.

 

Then he started laughing.

 

It wasn’t the usual bright laughter that melted Brian’s heart. It was harsh and manic, sounding like it was tearing out of him painfully. He leaned forward and gasped through his laughing. Then, just as soon as the laughing had started it dissolved into truly heart breaking sobs.

 

Brian had never heard someone cry like that. He tried to put his hands on Roger’s back, but he was shaking so hard Brian was scared he would actually shake apart. For a hysterical moment he thought that this was the moment Roger might actually break.

 

“I’ve got you,” Brian pressed a kiss to his hairline, mumbling against the skin. “I’m here. You’re here. It’ll be alright.”

 

And then Brian broke down too.

 

He clung to his boyfriend, scared that if he let go Roger would break into too many pieces to pick back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's horrible I know. I promise that this will get better! Recovery and justice is not constant, it fluctuates between up and down. This is just a very low part of the recovery process.


	20. Chapter 20

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kevin said strongly. It was part of the reason Brian liked the lawyer. The man cared so deeply about his clients, wanting to give them justice. He could tell that Kevin was just as torn up about the outcome of the trial as they were. “Your testimony was good and honest.”

 

“Then how could they say not guilty?” John spoke up through gritted teeth.

 

“There were a few reasons,” Kevin looked uncomfortably at Roger who sat slumped in a chair, sleeves of his worn hoodie pulled over his hands. “They’re fucked up…please excuse my language. Statistically male stalking victims are not taken as seriously. There’s a belief that men are more likely to defend themselves. Stigma clearly got in the way of their decision making.”

 

“Defend himself against an eight inch carving knife?” Freddie stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s bullshit and they know it.”

 

“I know. I understand,” Kevin shook his head. “But stalking is not a criminal offense. It is hard to prove intent without evidence. They couldn’t prove that he truly wanted to kill you when he is also admitting to seeing a shrink for delusional behavior.”

 

“It’s because I threw those fucking letters away,” Roger mumbled.

 

“Of course you did!” Freddie snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. “He was a fucking creep. Are we just supposed to always keep everything just in case? That’s insane.”

 

“So, you’re saying that the decision was based on the fact that Roger is a man?” Brian asked and Roger let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding up to the ceiling.

 

Kevin sighed and perched himself on the edge of his desk. “I hate to say it but that did play a factor. There was nothing we could do to change that.”

 

“They’ll just see me as some slut who teased a guy until he snapped,” Roger let out in a rush and Brian placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kevin shook his head sadly.

 

“We can appeal right?” John asked, looking a bit more excited. “We can fight this. Ask for a new trial and-“

 

“That’s double jeopardy. He can appeal if he disagrees with the decision but we can’t,” Kevin sighed. “But we can do a victim’s statement before the sentencing. Maybe that could convince the judge to do a harsher sentence.”

 

“I’m done,” Roger pulled at his sleeves again. “I’m not doing anything else with this. I’m not going to the sentencing and I’m not giving a statement. It’s over.”

 

Silence enveloped the room.

 

Brian couldn’t argue. The same hopelessness carved a deep hole inside of him, feeling raw and painful. It was like they had fought a battle for so long and there was finally an end to it. It wasn’t the victory they wanted but at least this nightmare would end.

 

“Rog,” John sighed.

 

“No, I’m done. I just want to finish our album and move on,” he scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’ve still got the restraining order so that’s something. Maybe he will get the help he needs and everything will be fine.”

 

“It’s just not fucking fair,” John whispered, his earlier fight draining from him.

 

“No,” Brian agreed.

 

“Sentencing should take place in a couple of weeks,” Kevin said gently. “I’ll give you a call then. Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

 

“Yeah,” Roger stood up and they all halfheartedly shook Kevin’s hand. The walk from the office to the car was done in silence, something that happened more often than not.

 

Brian hated what this trial had done to Roger. He wasn’t dressed like he normally did, instead choosing to wear wore jeans and an older hoodie. He looked tired and sickly, like the life was almost being drained out of him.

 

It was heartbreaking and Brian didn’t know what he could do to help.

 

He had hoped they would return to the farm full of confidence from seeing justice carried out. Instead, they had basically been told that Roger deserved what he got and that monster got a slap on the wrist. It was disgusting.

 

And he was angry.

 

He was so angry that Roger didn’t get the justice he deserved. He was angry that he had gone through so much pain and suffering and no one seemed to care. He was angry that newspapers practically slandered him, talking about his flirtatious past and how he had gone in too deep. The anger simmered just below his chest, churning his stomach painfully. It rose in waves until he could feel it burning at the back of his throat.

 

The ride back to the farm was quiet, leaving Brian with nothing else but his thoughts swirling.

 

“I’m going to bed,” Roger declared as they stepped into the door, not even looking at them before climbing the stairs.

 

Brian watched, hands in tight fists before stalking into the kitchen. He pulled down a coffee cup and poured himself a generous amount of whiskey, shooting it back. The burn just made his chest hurt more and in a desperate attempt to release _something_ he slammed his foot into the cabinet in front of him.

 

Something broke in him. Mindlessly, Brian continued to slam his foot into the wood until it cracked and splintered. The pots that rested inside the cabinet rattled loudly but he didn’t stop until the anger gave way to a true, dark grief.

 

He sagged forward and choked on his own sobs, stuffing the side of his hand into his mouth to stop the sobs. Gentle hands rested on his back and he glanced up through teary eyes to see John gazing down at him sadly.

 

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he looped an arm around the taller man’s waist.

 

Roger looked up when they entered the room, sitting up quickly. His brow creased in concern as John helped a sobbing Brian to lay on the bed. He could barely hear Roger whispering a thank you and John closing the door behind him as he left.

 

“Bri,” Roger’s soft voice sent a shudder through him. “Bri, please look at me.”

 

He felt calloused fingers gently brushing tears off of his cheeks and finally managed to catch his breath. When he opened his eyes he met Roger’s and surged forward for a kiss, desperate to be closer to him. Roger allowed the kiss, deepening it for a moment before carefully pushing Brian back.

 

“What’s going on?” He whispered.

 

“It’s not fucking fair,” Brian’s voice broke in the middle. “After everything…you deserve more. It’s fucked that they did that to you.”

 

Roger just nodded sadly, gently carding his fingers through Brian’s curls. He pressed kisses to Brian’s cheek, pressing against him comfortingly. He melted into his boyfriend’s touch and turned to press a small kiss to his palm.

 

“Why aren’t you screaming and breaking things? Why am I the only one completely losing it?” He whispered, voice hoarse.

 

“I don’t know,” Roger sighed. “I just kind of feel numb.”

 

Brian nodded slightly and pressed their foreheads together. He felt his face crumple again and more tears trickled down his cheeks. Roger glanced up and kissed him a few more times before trailing his lips down his cheek, jaw, and neck.

 

“Wait, wait,” Brian pulled him back up, chest tight. “What are you doing?”

 

“Let me take care of you okay?” Roger whispered and continued moving down his body. “I need…to feel in control for a bit.”

 

Brian wanted argue, to say that he didn’t need it, but the skilled fingers undoing his jeans and reaching into his pants silenced him. Everything was so confusing and scary. He just needed to forget for a moment, to slip into some mindless place where they weren’t so terrified.

 

A sharp gasp was punched out of him when Roger’s lips wrapped around his cock. He couldn’t stop his eyes from fluttering shut and a long groan escaped. The hot, wet suction was driving him completely insane.

 

“Fuck,” he gasped out, trying not to buck his hips.

 

Roger’s hand tightened on his hip and he shivered, wanting to be closer and further away at the same time as the sensations were too much. Had he not spent most of the past few days incredibly stressed and slingshoting from emotion to emotion he would have felt embarrassed by how close he was.

 

Then he looked down to see darkened blue eyes staring up at him and lost it.

 

His body jerks when he came, unable to even choke out a warning to Roger who didn’t seem all that upset. The aftershocks made his legs twitch and he gasped for breath, hands twisting into the sheets around him.

 

Roger carefully tucked him back into his boxers but pulled his jeans off and tossed them onto the floor. He crawled back up his body and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. With a soft sigh, he lay on his side next to Brian and traced patterns on his chest with his fingertips.

 

“Let me,” Brian tried to reach down to his waistband but Roger caught his hand and kissed his knuckles.

 

“I’m okay,” he whispered, threaded their fingers together. “You were getting lost in your head there.”

 

Brian let out a huff of laughter. Everything felt backwards. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one comforting Roger? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one helping him forget everything?

 

“I don’t know if there’s a way we’re supposed to do anything,” he blushed when he realized that he had spoken out loud. “And you are helping you idiot. You’re here for me and I’m here for you. I thought things were going to turn out differently but they didn’t. We lost and now we move on. I’m doing trying to fight a battle that I can’t win.”

 

A new wave of tears burned in his eyes. “We’re going to be okay right?”

 

“I bloody hope so,” Roger’s shoulders shrugged. “He is going to be in prison for a while and then I have a restraining order. We’ve done what we can and now we move on. We’ll move on the best we can.”

 

Brian leaned down a bit to press their lips together. Maybe their world wouldn’t crash down around them. Maybe this could be the start of something new. Maybe they could start moving on and learn how to live in this new world.

 

They would finish their album.

 

They would return to London for a bit and start touring.

 

They would preform together, losing themselves in the music like before.

 

They would be happy.

 

They had to be.


	21. Chapter 21

“Sit down! Sit down!” Freddie ushered them into the recording studio, grinning widely. He was practically vibrating with energy and sat down at the piano with flourish. “Are you ready darlings?”

 

“Wow us,” John said dryly and got a small smile from Roger.

 

Ever since they had returned from London things had changed a bit. Roger was quieter and more subdued. He still joined them while they wrote music and rehearsed but he had lost a bit of his spark. Brian knew he was still impacted from the results of the trial and he knew that it would take time. As much as it killed him he knew he just had to support him, waiting for him to come back to himself.

 

“Okay, so my vision is that it will start with piano,” Freddie spread his fingers across the keys and started off on a simple but beautiful melody. “The first verse is piano only and then bring in the drums.”

 

He pointed to Roger who tapped his fingers against his thigh, trying to come up with a rhythm. For a long moment Freddie just repeated the melody a few times. Then he started singing softly, sounding like he was still feeling out the song.

 

“Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he’s dead. Mama, life had just begun. And now I’ve gone and thrown it all away,” Brian leaned forward, intrigued. It was a pretty melody and he could tell there was a lot of potential there. He listened as Freddie crooned out again and glanced to his side to see Roger cocking his head to the side, listening intently. “Mama, oooh, didn’t mean to make you cry. If I’m not back again this time tomorrow, carry on carry on, as if nothing really matters. Too-“

 

“I’m sorry,” Roger interrupted, holding a hand up. “Is this a song about someone turning themselves in for a crime?”

 

A truly awkward silence followed, and Freddie nodded haltingly. “I suppose…I don’t know.”

 

“And what was the inspiration here?”

 

Freddie looked between them all but Brian just shrank back, unwilling to get in the middle of it. “I don’t know.”

 

“Because I’m hearing a song about a murderer who we’re supposed to feel sympathetic for,” Roger’s eyes were like ice and Freddie bristled. “Are you wanting us to feel sympathetic for a criminal?”

 

“No! That’s not what this is about!” Freddie argued back. “It’s about someone…having regrets and…can you just let me finish?”

 

Roger just lifted a hand and waved him on, getting a dark glare in response. With a heavier hand, Freddie continued with the melody and sang a bit sharper. John and Brian both sat stiffly on either side of Roger, not daring to look at him.

 

“Okay! That’s the introduction,” Freddie turned and smiled at him. “And then we go into the operatic section.”

 

“Operatic?” John asked slowly and got a beam in response.

 

“Before the rock of course.”

 

Roger leaned forward, face set into a blank mask. “Fred, is this song about Godfrey?”

 

“What?” Freddie sat up straighter. “Of course not! It’s about you!”

 

At that Roger froze and frowned. “Wait…what?”

 

“I started it in the hospital,” Freddie started, looking beyond uncomfortable. “Lots of long hours with nothing to do. Then I really started working on it when we got here. Shit, I felt like you were in a prison and you were fighting to get out. I wanted to write about someone who struggled with their desire to fight and…the exhaustion that comes with it.”

 

Roger blinked a few times before his face crumpled and he leaned back, pressing a hand to his mouth. “You really think that about me?”

 

All Brian wanted to do was flee. It was a feeling he felt often when Freddie and Roger started a fight but he couldn’t. He couldn’t leave Roger when he trembled finely under the hand on his knee. The overly bright look in his eyes told him that he was close to tears.

 

Freddie sighed and pulled one foot up to rest on the piano bench next to him. “I wanted to write a song about what you were going through. I wanted to show how there were moments of strength and moments where you felt lost. I wanted to show how crazy everything was and make it…kind of an anthem for the lost…you know?”

 

Roger just stared back, a series of emotions flashing across his face too fast to recognize. Finally, it settled on understanding and he nodded. “An anthem for the lost.”

 

“Something we all feel sometimes,” Freddie said passionately, wrapping his arms around the leg perched on the bench. “If you really don’t like it we can scrap it. I completely understand.”

 

“No,” Roger shook his head, brow furrowed. “It’s amazing Fred. It is really going to be something. But…explain what you mean by operatic section.”

 

Brian couldn’t keep the smile off his face as Fred explained the honestly absurd opera inspired part of the song. He tried to imagine how their voices would look together and couldn’t help but laugh when he caught sight of the look on John’s face.

 

“It’s crazy Fred,” John shook his head.

 

“It’s different!” Freddie grinned, raising his hands. “That is what we need. We need to be different.”

 

Roger turned to give Brian a look. “What do you think?”

 

“I think…I think it could be amazing,” he finally replied, getting a grin from Freddie. “It’ll showcase each of us and could be…fuck, it could be the thing that really makes us if we do it right.”

 

“Oh, and we will,” Freddie clapped his hands.

 

\--

 

The song turned out to be a nightmare to record.

 

There were so many parts and it was a bitch to try and figure out. Brian’s fingers ached from the millions of times he had tried the solo and he was thrilled that they were finally moving on to Roger’s falsetto solo for the time being.

 

“Higher Rog,” Freddie said calmly into the mic, making Roger nod and lean further in.

 

Roger’s low pitches were beautiful as always but his high notes came out strained. With every note his voice came out even harsher, which caused Freddie to scrunch his nose in distaste. It was clear that Roger was annoyed as well as he rolled his eyes every time.

 

Then he tried to hit the high note again and broke down into harsh coughs, doubling over.

 

“Maybe he could use a break,” Brian hissed to Freddie as Roger tried to catch his breath. “It’s straining his lungs.”

 

“Turn the microphone off next time dumbass,” Roger choked out, glaring at them with watery eyes. “I just need a minute, I’ll hit it.”

 

Brian sighed and leaned back in his chair, waving Freddie on. “Fine, just let me know if you’re going to hack out your lungs.”

 

“Fuck you!”

 

The notes came out even harsher than before, cracking and breaking. Roger gulped down some water but it was obvious that his lungs were still a bit unpracticed. In the past he would hit the most amazing notes effortlessly but now the lingering affects of injuries were obvious.

 

“Just take a bit of a break Rog,” Brian spoke directly into the mic and got a scowl in response.

 

“Can you hit this note? I don’t think so,” Brian rolled his eyes. It was true though, no one could hit the same notes that Roger could. “Just…give me a second.”

 

Roger practically gulped down a full glass of water and cleared his throat. He stepped up to the microphone and shot a look into the sound booth. The first Galileos came out perfectly, not strained at all. Then he continued and straightened his back to let out the last “for me!”

 

“Perfect darling!” Freddie grinned when Roger let out a long series of coughs after he cut the note off. It was hard to look smug while coughing violently but he managed to do it. “Absolutely perfect! Like a chorus of angels!”

 

“Bite me,” Roger choked out and Freddie laughed.

 

“Are you done ripping your lungs apart?” Brian asked, pushing Freddie aside so he could speak into the microphone.

 

Roger nodded and pulled his headphones off but he still coughed into his hand. He wandered into the sound booth and quickly perched himself in Brian’s lap, much to the older man’s surprise. A sly smile spread across Freddie’s face and he played back Roger’s part to get his opinion.

 

“You both are nauseating,” John spoke up from the couch but he grinned widely.

 

“Aw Deaky,” Roger gave him an exaggerated pout and smacked a wet kiss to Brian’s cheek. “If only we could spare you your life from monstrosity. Brian, let me go.”

 

“No! I will not let you go!” Brian teased, wrapping his arms around Roger’s waist. “Never, never, never let you go.”

 

“You are the worst,” John rolled his eyes.

 

“You’re butchering my beautiful words,” Freddie whined but he was smiling brighter than Brian had ever seen him.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started writing another Queen story as well! :) You can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18165509/chapters/42960326

The album was perfect.

 

Roger felt tears spring to his eyes as the gong finished ringing. He grinned when Brian squeezed his shoulder, pride blooming tight in his chest. God, it was so perfect. It was the most amazing thing he had ever been a part of.

 

Returning to London from the farm had been hard. Roger still had trouble leaving the loft and nightmares overwhelmed him at night. Going to Foster Records had been one of the first times he had gone out but the album was too important. Somehow, Roger felt like this was the turning point. It was the start of the next part of his life.

 

They all stared at Ray Foster, holding their breath. He tapped his fingers against his upper lip, staring at the tabletop before leaning back with a sigh.

 

“Where’s the tribute song?” He finally said.

 

“…what?” Freddie asked, glancing at Brian who shrugged his shoulders.

 

“The stabbing song,” Ray waved his hand impatiently. “Drama sells, so where is the song about the stabbing? I thought it would be some kind of ballad and Roger would sing it.”

 

The four of them stared in disbelief.

 

“I’m not singing a song about the stabbing,” Roger said simply, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

John huffed out a laugh. “We were supposed to sing about the stabbing? Something to play over sad PSAs on the television? What were we supposed to write? ‘Roger got stabbed, in the knife jabbed. He got super hurt, he had to throw away his shirt.’”

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Roger nodded, eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. “Clearly top ten material.”

 

“Thank you, Rog.”

 

Ray didn’t look impressed. His lips thinned into a fine line of displeasure and he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Okay, you are all very cute but that is what is going to sell. The stabbing was all over the news for weeks. People are going to gobble up a song about it, we could even…donate some proceeds or something.”

 

“You want us to use the most horrible thing that has ever happened to us as a way to make money,” Brian’s voice came out slow and dangerous. When he leaned over Roger on the couch, he placed his hands on his shoulders, just pressing into him to ground both of them.

 

“American Pie was about the deaths of Buddy Holly and…others and it was top of the chart in America for four weeks. Bing Crosby wrote Do You Hear What I Hear about the Cuban Missile Crisis,” Ray held his hands up in surrender. “The album will have a song about the attack on it. Tragedy sells. Don’t you want to sell?”

 

A long silence followed.

 

“Not with you,” Freddie finally said.

 

“What?”

 

“Queen will not work with you,” Freddie stood, hands trembling at his side. “Our deal is done.”

 

“Fred,” Roger said weakly, heart clenching. This was their chance, why would he risk ruining it? He dreaded the idea of signing about the attack but he wouldn’t jeopardize their career for it. “Stop, it’s fine. We can make it work. We can just-“

 

“Absolutely not,” Freddie was shaking with rage. “We’re not about to…we aren’t going to do it. We are not going to use you to get on the charts, our talent will get us there.”

 

Ray let out a disbelieving huff, leaning back in his chair. The smug smile slipped off his face when he realized they weren’t bluffing. Freddie grabbed Roger’s elbow and practically yanked him to his feet. He turned to glare at Ray as they left the room.

 

“What the fuck Freddie?” Roger hissed as they stepped out. “That’s our chance! Who else is going to produce this album? You could have just fucked us!”

 

Freddie let out a long sigh, placing his hands on his hips and stretching his back a bit. “I won’t sing some pandering song.”

 

“You wouldn’t have to. It would be me and we could just…tack it on the end. I know I said I wouldn’t do it but I will if it’ll get us an album,” Roger said meekly and then yelped as John smacked him on the arm.

 

“That’s stupid. You’re stupid. That is demeaning to you and your talent,” the youngest member of the band seethed, eyes flashing. “Our album is perfect, and it will be produced. Fuck him.”

 

“Leave it to me darlings, I know people,” Freddie smiled brightly. “And you know how I love to talk. I’ll give Miami a call and he will get us on the radio in a week. You know how intense that man is, he’ll badger everyone until they agree.”

 

Roger sighed and rocked back and forth on his feet. “This bullshit wasn’t supposed to impact our music.”

 

“And it won’t…well, it kind of did because it taught us that Ray Foster is an ass,” Brian smiled when Roger relaxed slightly, giving him a fond eyeroll. “It’ll be alright. It’ll all work out.”

 

Then, the elevator let out a soft ding and Brian took his hand. A blush spread across his face but he leaned into the taller man as the doors slid closed behind them. Both Freddie and John stared straight ahead but they were grinning widely.

 

Roger had never thought that walking out of a producer’s office would feel empowering but here they were. They had control over this. They would find someone who appreciated them as artists. They wouldn’t have to settle.

 

\--

 

"I'm going to buy every car I see," Roger said dreamily, smiling up at the ceiling. "Just imagine a ridiculously long driveway lined with sports cars in every color. It would look like a candy store."

 

It had only taken a few days for another producer to snatch up the album and they might actually make money now. In the beginning they had just been excited to get an album but now this could be a career. Those dreams of fame and fortune could be a reality. 

 

"What would you buy?" Roger turned on his side, letting his fingers lightly trace patterns on Brian's arms. This was nice, just laying next to each other with the city lights bleeding through too thin curtains. "We're going to have to sell a fuck ton of albums to get you a rocket you know."

 

Brian rolled his eyes and turned on his side as well, facing Roger. "I'd like to get my Ph.D."

 

"Really?" Roger frowned, fingers stilling on his boyfriend's arm. "To do what, become a professor? Do you not want to play music?"

 

"No, of course I do! Queen is everything to me," Brian shook his head and took Roger's hand before kissing his fingers. "And it'll be amazing. I get to play music with you and travel the world with you by my side. Think of all the spectacular things we are going to see and do."

 

"So why get your degree?" Roger asked.

 

Brian lay quietly for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. "I am...curious. There is so much we don't understand and so much we can learn. You know that feeling we have when we finish a song and we are the only people in the world who hear it? I want that. I want to learn something that no one else knows. I want a moment where only I understand something."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because then I can share that with you," he leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the nose. "And just you and I will know something about the universe."

 

Roger stared at him before breaking out into a grin. "That is the nerdiest and most romantic thing I've ever heard."

 

"That's me, nerdy and romantic," he smiled back and tipped his head back to let Roger lightly kiss his jaw. "Do you think things are going to change when we become big?"

 

"Of course, but that's okay," Roger flopped down on his stomach. "Maybe I'll get my Ph.D too, become Doctor Roger Taylor."

 

"That's a laugh," Brian chuckled. "Like you'd ever have the attention span to go back to school. I had to drag you to finish your last degree."

 

"I'd find a way."

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is pure smut. Enjoy ;)

“Look at the windows!” Roger gasped, eyes beyond bright as he practically bound towards the wall of glass. “Oh Brian, the windows are incredible.”

They had been living in the same flat for a while now, but it felt so incredibly amazing to actually go out and get a flat together, just the two of them. This was the flat they would share as a couple. This was where they would start a life together.

He felt a bit giddy about it. 

“Stop looking out the bloody windows and help me move boxes,” he teased, getting a wide smile in response. 

It was small, just what they could afford on their first miniscule royalties check, but it was theirs. Brian loved every crack in the wall, every door that didn’t shut entirely, and every weird stain on the hardwood floors. But what he really loved was how happy Roger seemed. They had struggled for too long and this was their first step in moving forward. 

A few hours in and they had managed to get all of their belongings moved in. Boxes sat piled up along the walls and their mattress lay on the floor in the middle of the living room. It was a mess but Brian couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

“So, we are going to get at least three dogs, mostly as a fuck you to Freddie,” Roger leaned forward to dig into Brian’s takeout box of noodles. “We need a few mutts, maybe a poodle so you don’t feel so alone.”

Brian snapped his chopsticks at his boyfriend but grinned. “We can’t really get a dog, love. How are we going to take care of it when we’re big famous rock stars touring the world?”

“Hmm,” Roger hummed and nodded. “True. Well, we’ll have to get them when we are old and retired then.”

Butterflies took flight in his stomach every time Roger talked about their future together.

“We can get one dog then,” he conceded and Roger raised his eyebrows, almost like he was accepting a challenge. 

Roger placed his empty take out box down on the floor and plucked Brian’s out of his hand as well. A sly, almost dirty smile spread across his face and he slid himself into Brian’s lap. The younger man looped his arms around his neck and grinned. 

“Can I help you?” Brian teased, kissing the tip of his nose. 

“We have yet to christen the home,” Roger put on a posh accent. “Although nothing we’re doing could be considered Christian I suppose.”

“Are you propositioning me?” Brian laughed. This was what he loved about being with Roger. He loved how easy it was, how natural it was. “Because I accept.”

Roger let out a shriek as Brian quickly flipped them over, making them bounce on the mattress. He halted the giggles by pressing their lips together. The kiss was deepened almost instantly, turning dirty. A low moan echoed in Roger’s chest and Brian knelt down so they could be fully pressed together. 

“Wait,” Roger wiggled out from underneath him, stumbling to his feet and darting to a nearby bag. He pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it somewhere among the boxes. Brian grinned and pulled off his own shirt, eyes following Roger as he dug through the bag.

“Ah ha!” Roger triumphantly held up a bottle, a grin on his face. 

There couldn’t be anything more beautiful in the world than Roger walking towards him, grinning and happy. The confidence and joy in him made Brian’s chest feel tight and his head go a bit dizzy. The scars were barely noticeable. No one looked at the sun and saw the dark sunspots, they just saw the blazing glory of it.

“Come here,” Brian’s voice was tender and he wrapped his hands around Roger’s slender waist, pulling him into his lap again. 

At first, they just kissed sweetly, Roger melting into Brian’s lanky frame. Brian reached his hands up to gently rake through messy blond hair. Roger softly sighed and leaned back to smile down at him, looking as out of breath as Brian felt. 

He didn’t say a word, didn’t have to, he just pressed the bottle into his hand. Brian grinned and surged up to kiss him again, empty hand snaking down to pop open the button on Roger’s jeans. It was difficult to shimmy out of their pants without breaking the kiss and it resulted in some awkward teeth knocking and laughter. 

Soon enough, Roger was perched in his lap again, shivering as Brian slicked up his fingers and slid his hand between his thighs. A hitched gasp became a long drawn out moan as he sunk one finger in. Brian couldn’t look away from the way Roger tipped his head back and sighed. His hips circled and jerked, pressing down on him. 

“Christ, you’re beautiful,” Brian breathed against his throat, scraping his teeth along the thin skin. “You’re so amazing.”

Roger huffed out a laugh, arching his back when Brian added another finger. The taller man slowly let his lips drift down to Roger’s breast bone and he smiled at the hummingbird heartbeat again his lips. He added one more finger and the slow circles Roger had been making with his hips became a bit more frantic. 

“Come on Bri,” Roger’s arms hung loosely against his shoulders. “I need you to fuck me okay? I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Brian wiped his hand on the rumpled sheets and took hold of Roger’s waist. Their lips met in a slow, sweet kiss that quickly turned into twin moans as Roger slid down onto his cock.

“Oh my God,” Brian whined against his lips, trying his hardest not to surge up. “You feel so good, you feel amazing.”

“You too,” The blond breathed, chest hitching a bit. He let his hips rock downward and then started gently rolling them. 

It wasn’t fast or rushed. They clung tightly to each other, trembling as they just soaked in the feeling of being together. Roger’s hips started rocking a bit quicker and Brian began thrusting up, making them both gasp out. 

“I’m not gonna last long,” Roger’s voice was a bit slurred. 

“Me neither,” Brian leaned forward to kiss him again, both of them moaning at the change in angle. 

Their climaxes came upon them like a cresting wave, getting brighter and stronger until finally falling over the edge. First Roger came between them, shuddering in his pleasure, and then Brian buried himself deep and let go as well. 

When they were finally able to catch their breath they both let out gasped laughs and Brian pressed his forehead into Roger’s. 

“You’re just…lovely you know?” Roger said softly and grinned when Brian laughed. 

“Me? Look who’s talking,” Brian shook his head and was forced to meet Roger’s eyes by a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“Stop that,” Roger whispered, still perched in his lap. “You are. You have the most beautiful eyes and the most stunning smile. I’m so lucky that you…that you chose me.”

“Like I had a choice,” Brian stroking his hands up his side. 

Roger groaned as he pulled himself off and flopped down on the bed, hands resting on his stomach. After a beat, Brian joined him on the bed. They lay next to each other in silence before Brian realized that Roger was lightly tracing his scars with his fingertips.

Without a word, Brian took his hand and kissed his palm. 

“I like this new life we’re starting,” Roger mumbled, turning to press his face into Brian’s shoulder. “It’s pretty great.”

“The best,” Brian smiled. 

“And I really don’t want to get up early for the press conference,” the whine in his voice was obvious. “They’re always so awkward and we have to answer the same damn questions.”

“You wouldn’t have to do press conferences if you weren’t such a wonderful musician dear,” Brian kissed the crown of his head. “That’s kind of on you.”

\--

Brian had to wonder if there would be this many reporters if the stabbing hadn’t happened. 

It felt kind of like he was an exhibit in a zoo with the way they all stared at them. Notebooks were ready and cameras flashed, making Roger wince despite his dark glasses. 

“We are here to talk about the album,” Brian said calmly into the microphone. “Does anyone have any questions about that?”

The first reporter was called on and she stood, pen ready to scribble down anything that was said. “This is a question for Mr. Taylor. What are your thoughts on the results of the trial?”

Roger went stiff next to him and Brian’s heart dropped. Of course they would descend on Roger who barely even spoke to them about the attack. He had only come to the panel because they had sworn that the questions would only be focused on the album. 

“I’ll take that one for Roger,” John leaned forward, eyes icy. “Bad. Those are our thoughts. Bad.”

The woman frowned, looking annoyed, but nodded and sat down. A man was chosen next and stood as well. “This question is also for Mr. Taylor. What struggles have you been going through since you were attacked?”

“Hey, I’ll take that one as well,” John had a fake cheerfulness to his voice. “There have been many struggles.”

“Care to elaborate?” The man asked.

“No,” the bassist had a gleam in his eyes and Brian had to hold his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. 

“I’ll elaborate on the struggles,” Roger leaned forward, and it seemed like everyone perked up at that. “It was a challenge to create a unique sound for this album. We had to combine many different genres of music to create something truly original and I think we did it. I’m quite proud of the album despite the struggles that came with it.”

“Next question then,” Brian scanned the crowd. 

The questions followed in much the same fashion. John snarkily answered any question about the attack with a sarcastic joke of an answer, then Roger would swoop in and turn the question to be about the album. Freddie didn’t hide his amusement, laughing brightly at the annoyed expressions of the reporters. 

“Mr. Taylor,” honestly, Brian had to applaud the nerve of the reporter to try and ask Roger another question. “Do you have anything you would like to say to Dr. Godfrey?”

John cleared his throat to answer but Roger held up a hand, moving the microphone towards himself instead. 

“No. I have absolutely nothing to say to him.”

This time Brian didn’t even pretend to hide his grin.


	24. Chapter 24

Brian hated to admit it, but he didn’t like Kevin Stewart.

 

Nothing against him personally, he was a nice enough guy. He was only there because Roger had insisted on it. He had declared that he wouldn’t tour unless there was a backup drummer and the rest of the band reluctantly agreed. They didn’t want to play with anyone but Roger. They honestly couldn’t play with anyone but Roger.

 

They guy was nice enough and prepared, but he wasn’t Roger.

 

“My arm has really been acting up,” Roger grumbled in the dressing room, still wrapped in a fluffy robe. “I think Kevin should go on instead. I don’t want it to seize up in the middle of a song.”

 

Brian sighed and leaned against the counter. It wasn’t the first time Roger had said that and he said it more and more the closer they got to showtime. The blond was practically vibrating with nerves, something he didn’t normally do at all, and it was wearing on all of them.

 

“You’ve played through this setlist like a thousand times. You’re going to be amazing,” he tried to soothe but Roger let out a long huff, still fidgeting from foot to foot.

 

“Fuck…I…I need a damn cigarette. Deaky? Can I bum one off of you?” He turned pleading eyes to the bassist who was adjusting the collar of his shirt in the mirror.

 

“No.”

 

“Just one? What hard could just one do?” He whined.

 

“No.”

 

Roger blew a short breath upwards to make his bangs fly slightly. “Fine. All of you hate me.”

 

“Yes Rog, we despise you. That’s why we all stopped smoking around you,” John fluffed his hair and fixed him with a look through the mirror. “Plus, coughing your lungs out isn’t very rock and roll is it?”

 

With an overly dramatic spin, Roger slouched on a couch and pouted. His leg bounced as they got ready in almost silence. The nerves had to be eating him up and it killed Brian. Roger was usually the one who did multiple shots before a show and practically danced around the dressing room. This Roger was a ghost of the man he once was.

 

“Queen, ready in five,” a stagehand called out and Roger tensed.

 

“Let’s put on a show my dears!” Freddie sang, clapping Brian on the shoulder and grinning at the others. They made their way to the stage, but Roger froze just outside the doors, eyes wide.

 

The area was a bit dark but he could still see the rising panic in Roger’s eyes. He quickly stepped behind him so he couldn’t flee like he knew he wanted to. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah…yeah…yeah…I’m fine,” Roger gave him a quirk of a smile but it vanished just as fast. “Super.”

 

Brian turned to face him fully, gently hooking his fingers under Roger’s chin and tilting his eyes up to meet his own. “You’re going to be amazing. You always are.”

 

“What if I’m not?” Roger whispered and Brian’s heart broke.

 

“You will be,” Brian smiled gently. “You know that. Hear that? Hear all those people out there? They’re waiting for us, for you. They’re waiting for you to share your gift with them.”

 

“You’re such a dramatic bitch,” Roger laughed out, but tears made his eyes a bit brighter. “Alright, let’s go blow them away.”

 

The stagehand was waving them on, and Roger dropped his hand to lightly squeeze Brian’s before practically hopping up the steps to the stage. The cheers were deafening, and Brian was completely blown away. This was by far the largest crowd they had ever played, and it made Brian feel a bit giddy.

 

The speakers started blasting their operatic section to Bohemian Rhapsody and he turned to watch Roger nervously spinning his drum sticks in his fingers. He gave him a reassuring smile and got one in response before they both prepared themselves for the rock section.

 

When they started it felt like an explosion. Brian let his fingers dance up and down the strings, keeping his eye on Roger who was drumming in an almost reserved way. He wasn’t putting the usual passion he normally did into his playing. It was clear that both Freddie and John also noticed the change in his playing with how they glanced over worriedly.

 

A slight grimace was on Roger’s face as they transitioned into Ogre Battle. The nerves clearly were holding him back. He didn’t hit his drums with the usual reckless abandonment that helped create his own personal style. It sounded a bit stilted and awkward, but he gritted his teeth and continued.

 

The audience didn’t seem to notice. They still cheered with every song and chanted their name. It felt good to preform live again after so long. Brian loved the rush of having people sing along to songs that he helped write. It felt like he was giving the world something.

 

They went into Keep Yourself Alive and Brian kept looking over at Roger, worried. When they were going over the setlist Roger had insisted that he wanted to play the song despite the difficult solo. Now, it looked like Roger was dreading the song, slouched over a bit.

 

As they got closer and closer to the solo something in Roger changed. He sat up a bit more and started drumming a bit harder. Brian held his breath as he stopped strumming and turned towards Roger. It felt like his heart had just about stopped.

 

It was like someone flipped a switch. Roger hit the drums with an energy he had never seen before, moving so fluidly that his hands were almost a blur. A manic smile spread across Roger’s face and it was so beautiful that Brian almost missed his own entrance to the song. When he started playing again, he didn’t miss the way Roger’s head tipped back as he laughed.

 

The rest of the set went perfectly. Roger played with such an incredible energy and fed off of the crowd’s energy. By the time they played their final song Roger looked like he was on top of the world. He bounded down to the front of the stage when Freddie called his name.

 

“You were a dream,” Brian leaned in close to whisper in his ear, getting a beaming smile in return. “The best you ever played.”

 

Roger lightly bumped their hips together and waved at the crowd one more time. The familiar high of playing for a cheering crowd made Brian’s fingers tingle and his heart pound. They accepted the complements from the stagehands as they walked behind the stage.

 

A few flashing cameras brought Roger to a sudden halt and Brian crashed into him, grabbing his shoulders to steady himself. John had also paused and stared at the crowd of cameramen and reporters gathered outside the door.

 

“We’ll shoo them away dear, don’t you worry,” Freddie nudged John and the two of them walked out, closing the large metal doors behind them so the cameras couldn’t find Roger.

 

“I’m sorry…I just can’t,” Roger shook his head, looking a bit pale.

 

“I understand,” Brian squeezed his shoulders. He couldn’t imagine forcing Roger to relieve the same situation that had hurt him so badly. “I’m so damn proud of you Roger. You were incredible.”

 

“You too,” he could see the way Roger rocked a bit on his toes, almost like he would kiss Brian if there wasn’t a crowd of people milling around.

 

They could hear Freddie and John speaking to the reporters in kind voices at first. Then their words got a bit sharper until Freddie practically screamed at someone to “get the fuck out!” Brian couldn’t help but smile at that.

 

“Okay! Let’s go,” the door cracked open and Freddie waved them into the now empty hallway. Brian took Roger’s hand in his own and they walked down to their dressing rooms, feeling lighter and happier than they had in a long time.

 

The four of them burst into their shared dressing room, laughing and chatting excitedly about their next show. Brian could feel Roger practically vibrating with energy, talking a mile a minute about their next set. He had honestly never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

 

“Aw Brian,” a sappy smile spread across Roger’s face and he squeezed Brian’s hand, kissing him on the cheek. “Flowers? Who would have thought you were such a romantic?”

 

All the happy feelings rushed out of him so fast that Brian was left feeling lightheaded. He stared at the stupidly large display of roses sitting on Roger’s side of the dressing room, a card with his name on it poking up through the blooms.

 

“I didn’t send you anything.”

 

Roger froze and his hand slipped out of Brian’s. Without another word, John strode forward and took the card out. He opened it and read through the message before giving them a look and Brian knew what that look meant.

 

“You know what? Fuck it,” Roger walked forward, took the vase, and tossed the entire thing into the trashcan. He stomped them down a bit with his foot and turned, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m done with that bullshit. Let’s go to a pub and get greasy food and some pints.”

 

“Rog,” Brian started but Roger shook his head sharply.

 

“So he can call a flower shop. He’s still in prison,” Roger lifted his chin. “I’m not going to let him put me in a prison too.”

 

Brian pulled him in for a tight hug, unable to not touch him any longer. He smiled and kissed the top of his head as Roger relaxed slightly into his hold. “Pizza and beer sounds wonderful.”


	25. Chapter 25

Maybe it was stupid, but he had drunk half a bottle of wine and was stuck in an empty hotel room with nothing but his thoughts.

 

It was one of those rare nights where they didn’t have a show. Brian had some childhood friends who lived in the area and had gone off to have dinner with them. Roger had begged off going with him, wanting to have a bit of piece and quiet for the first time in a long time.

 

But the quiet had led to boredom and the boredom had led to thinking. He thought about how Godfrey had been so delusional that he had actually sent flowers. Had he actually thought that Roger would be touched by his gesture?

 

Enough was enough.

 

Roger dug through the drawers at the small desk and pulled out a small pad of paper with the hotel’s name printed on the top in an elegant script. He pulled out a cheap pen and pulled the cap off with his teeth, spitting it off to the side and taking a seat in the swivel chair.

 

Then he began to write.

 

_~~Dear Nate~~ _

_~~Nate~~ _

_~~Dr. Godfrey~~ _

_You fucker,_

_I know you’re going to be pissed at that because you always told me that I needed to act like more of a gentleman. Well, fuck you. Did you honestly think that I would have read your letters and changed for you? You’re nothing to me. You are nothing._

_I never thought about you. I never wondered if you liked me. I never dreamed about you. I didn’t even know you existed until you came up to me after class that one time and ~~I was~~ you fucking gave me the creeps. I fucking laughed at your letters in the beginning. I thought you were a sad, desperate fucker and your attempts at poetic declarations of love were pathetic. _

_I have a fucking life and that life doesn’t have you in it. It will never have you in it. You tried to kill me. You tried to end my life for no goddamn reason. You made me choke on my own blood. You made me feel a knife against my ribs. You had no right. None._

_I would never be with you in this life or any other. There is someone I love, and I’ll be with him. He’s good. He’s an actual good person, not just playing at it. He waits until I’m ready. He wants what is best for me even if it isn’t benefitting him. He’s the person I want to spend the rest of eternity with, not you. Never you. I’ll be happy with him, so fucking happy, and you’ll die alone._

_It wasn’t fair that you didn’t get put away for life. I would rest so much easier if I knew you were rotting. Still, the only time I will think about you or dream about you will be in my nightmares and those will fade with time. I’m going to live a wonderful life full of music and love and you won’t fucking be in it._

_This will be the only time I will ever write to you or speak to you. I will not attend the sentencing. I hope you burn in hell for what you did to me. I can’t wait to forget you._

_-Your fucking sunshine_

              He scribbled the last word with a flourish and jabbed his pen into the paper to create a bit of a splatter. Roger ripped the last page off and shuffled the papers together, digging through the drawer again until he pulled out an envelope. He stuffed the papers in haphazardly, wrote Godfrey’s name and the prison’s address on the front, and stood. With a grimace, Roger shoved his feet into his shoes and walked down to the lobby.

 

              The star struck girl at the front desk practically fell over herself getting him a stamp and swearing that she would put it with the outgoing mail. He gave her a few bright smiles and charming complements before turning and walking back to the elevator.

 

              “Roger!” The blond’s heart jumped into his throat and he spun around to see Brian hurrying up to him. “What are you doing out and about?”

 

              “I…I took a walk,” he stammered out, but Brian didn’t notice his odd behavior.

 

              “Did it help? Calm your mind or something?” Brian ushered him into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor.

 

              Roger stared at the numbers rising on the elevator’s display. “I think so. I was able to get a lot of things off my chest.”

 

              Brian beamed at him, swaying a bit when the elevator got to their floor and came to a stop. IT was then that Roger recognized the slight haze in his eyes and the way he leaned against the wall.

 

              “Did you have one too many when you went out?” He grinned slyly when a huge smile spread across Brian’s face

 

              “Maybe. We got to talking and then we got to drinking and then we got to celebrating,” Brian waved his hand dismissively.

 

              “Well, I’m glad you had fun. You needed to go and unwind,” Roger laughed when Brian tripped on the ridge of the elevator, steadying him with a hand. He kept his hand on Brian’s back the entire way to the room.

 

              “It was fun,” Brian hummed. He leaned against the wall as Roger fiddled with the key. “But I talked about you a lot. I told them that you were amazing and beautiful and kind and perfect.”

 

              “You flatterer,” Roger led him inside and smiled fondly as Brian stumbled to the bed and plopped face down into the pillows. “Oi, let’s get you undressed first before you pass out.”

 

              Brian mumbled something into the pillows and let out a yelp when Roger gave him a swat on the bottom. He lifted his head and blinked at him blearily. “What was that for?”

 

              “You were talking into the pillows and I couldn’t hear you. Besides, I couldn’t resist,” he gave Brian a wink and pulled off his shoes, setting them on the floor by the bed.

 

              Brian sighed and lay his head back down, letting his eyes close. “If you give me a minute I can totally…totally rock your world?”

 

              “Oh really?” Roger let out a bark of laughter as he stripped Brian of his jacket and yanked off his jeans, leaving him in a t-shirt and boxers. “You can’t even walk in a straight line my dear. Let’s just go to sleep and then I’ll help you through your hangover tomorrow morning, yeah?”

 

              “Fiiiine,” Brian let out in a long breath, letting himself get settled under the blankets. His eyes closed again, and Roger got ready for bed himself, smiling the whole time.

 

              It wasn’t often that Brian let himself go like this. He was always so straight laced and worried about everyone else around him, especially Roger. It was nice to be able to take care of him for a change, even if it was just after a night of excess drinking.

 

              “Budge over,” he grumbled as he climbed into his side, pushing at Brian who had somehow managed to spread his stupidly long limbs all across the bed. Instead of giving him some space, Brian wrapped himself around Roger like an octopus and buried his face into his hair.

 

              “I’m lucky,” he sighed, voice barely a whisper. “I’m really lucky to have you.”

 

              “You are,” Roger deadpanned.

 

              “You’re my other half Roger, you’re my everything,” he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes as emotion swelled in his chest. “You make me happy. Do I make you happy?”

 

              He squirmed around to face Brian, kissing him lightly. “You do.”

 

              “Oh, good,” Brian breathed out and then finally fell asleep.

 

              Roger stared at him, eyes tracing his sharp features and messy curls. He lifted a hand to gently run along his cheekbone. This was why he wrote the letter. He had to put those monstrous memories behind him so he could move forward with his life.

 

              So he could move on with Brian.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Talk of PTSD and therapy also blood

“Motherfucker!”

 

Roger cursing was nothing new, but it still made Brian’s heart jump every time. He glanced up from the notebook he was scribbling in and walked towards the kitchen where he knew his boyfriend was cooking dinner in.  

 

“I’m fine,” Roger’s frantic, strained voice didn’t help his worry. Neither did the way Roger twisted away from him, trying to shield something from view.

 

Brian stepped forward and froze at the sight of blood dotting the white tile floor. The blond’s hand was clasped around his other hand and he shook his head lightly. The white dishtowel he had wrapped around his left hand was turning red.

 

“Jesus,” Brian stepped forward and gently unwound the towel. The cut was still dripping blood but didn’t look terribly deep. They wouldn’t have to get stitches or anything, but it was obvious it hurt. Roger made a face when Brian applied a bit of pressure. “What the hell happened?”

 

“The bloody knife slipped,” he grumbled, glaring at the knife on the counter like it had personally offended him.

 

“Slipped?” Brian asked, looking again at the wound and feeling relieved that the bleeding was slowing down. He could tell in the way that Roger was shifting uncomfortably that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

 

“Yeah…well I dropped it and tried to catch it and…obviously you shouldn’t catch a knife by the blade,” he let out a bitter laugh and Brian smiled faintly as well.

 

“Mr. Nimble Fingers himself?” Brian dug under the sink for their small first aid kit and pulled out the antiseptic and gauze. He flinched himself at Roger’s hiss when he gently wiped the wound with antiseptic, knowing that it burned.

 

Roger watched as he wrapped his hand in gauze, securing it tightly. “It’s stupid.”

 

“What is?”

 

Roger flexed his fingers lightly and frowned. “I was…I was cutting the carrot and when I lifted it, I guess it caught the light and something snapped for a minute. I jumped and dropped the knife.”

 

For the longest time Roger wouldn’t even go near knives. He would break out into a cold sweat when he even saw them, but Brian had thought they made so much progress. It wasn’t like him to have these flashbacks, not anymore.

 

“You’re safe you know,” Brian mumbled.

 

“I know, I’m not stupid,” Roger sighed and pulled his hand to his chest again. “But it just like…flipped a switch in my brain or something. I saw the flash of the knife and I was suddenly there.”

 

Brian leaned against the counter, noticing the way Roger practically skirted around the knife to clean up. The blond looked tired and frustrated. It made Brian’s mind up to finally say what had been on his mind for so long.

 

“Maybe you should go speak to a therapist?” He offered softly and Roger gave him a withering look.

 

“I’m not crazy.”

 

Brian threw his hands up in surrender. “I’m not saying you’re crazy. Anyone who went through what you did would have a hard time coping.”

 

“I’m coping just fine!” Roger snapped, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m fine!”

 

“Fine isn’t having flashbacks because you see a knife,” Brian argued. “It’s okay not to be fine! It’s normal!”

 

“None of this is normal!” Roger shouted, clenching his hands into fists. “No one else is going through this shit. I’m fine! You have no fucking idea what I’m going through.”

 

“I’m seeing a therapist!” Brian snapped back and Roger froze. “I know you’re still hurting Roger because I’m still hurting.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“You think I’m not scared? You don’t think that I don’t freeze up when I hear someone shouting? You don’t think camera flashes make me break out into a cold sweat?” Brian’s shouting faded until he was just speaking in a hoarse voice. “I see a therapist because I want to most past this. I don’t want to keep ignoring it while it hovers around me.”

 

Roger stared at him for a long moment. “You’re seeing a therapist?”

 

“I thought you were going to die in my arms. That kind of fucks with your brain,” Brian let out a slightly hysterical laugh and Roger looked down at his feet. “I wanted to get better…for you.”

 

Instantly, Roger seemed to melt. He leaned back against the counter and looked down at the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing a therapist.”

 

“Well, I am…I’m not ashamed of it,” Brian quickly said, needing to defend himself.

 

“No, you shouldn’t be…but I’m…I’m ashamed that you’re suffering because of me,” he finished the sentence in a whisper. “I’m sorry Brian, I never realized.”

 

Brian moved forward to wrap his boyfriend in a hug, relieved when he melted into the touch instead of pulling away. Roger rested his head on Brian’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him as close to himself as possible.

 

“I know John is also seeing someone…although he might kill me for telling you and Freddie was for a while,” he felt Roger stiffen in his arms. “We all love you so much Rog. What happened scared the hell out of us, still does.”

 

Roger sighed and buried his face into his chest, breathing in deeply. “It’s been a year you know, a year last week. I feel like I shouldn’t still be struggling with this shit. I want to just forget it all.”

 

“I know love,” Brian pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “Trauma doesn’t just go away. It will hit in the most random of times, maybe even years from now. That’s why it is so important to learn how to deal with it now.”

 

The blond groaned, still not lifting his face. “I don’t wanna go.”

 

“Why don’t you come to one of my sessions with me?” Brian leaned back so Roger was forced to look at him. “Just to see? It’s hard but it’s worth it.”

 

Roger scowled but nodded. “Fine.”

 

\--

 

Brian had never seen Roger so uncomfortable in his life. The blond’s leg was bouncing almost comically high and he chewed on his already torn cuticles. His blue eyes flicked around the waiting room anxiously. Even when he placed his hand on Roger’s knee, he still looked beyond nervous.

 

He looked like he was going to run any moment.

 

“You’ll like her,” Brian offered quietly and Roger let out a huff, shifting in his chair.

 

“And I don’t have to say nothing?” He grumbled.

 

“Of course not. You can just sit there like a weirdo the whole time if you want,” the joke fell flat when Roger didn’t even crack a smile. “Honestly Rog, you’ll be okay. You don’t have to say anything and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

 

Roger nodded nervously but didn’t respond. They spent the next few moments in silence between the door opened and an older woman in a flowery long dress stepped out. She had close cropped grey hair and huge magnifying glasses, looking like the classic grandmother in a storybook.

 

“Why hello there!” Her voice was cheerful. “Come on back!”

 

The office was rather cozy. Plush couches were covered in pillows and soft throws. The lights were low, there were several vases of flowers, and several candles were lit. Brian always felt at peace in the office, but it was obvious that Roger didn’t feel the same way. He still looked a bit trapped and tense.

 

“You must be Roger,” she held a hand out and after a beat Roger shook it. “I’m Jane, it’s just lovely to meet you.”

 

The blond gave her a fake quirk of a smile. “You too.”

 

They sat side by side on the overstuffed couch and Brian watched as Roger crossed both his arms and legs. It was a defensive, protective position that he had gotten way too familiar with over their time together. The blond even inched away when he tried to rest a calming hand on his knee.

 

“So, tell me about why you are both here today,” she had a friendly, open smile on her face.

 

“Roger had a bit of an…episode yesterday?” Brian said, glancing at Roger who just shrugged. “He had a flashback and accidentally hurt himself.”

 

“I’m fine,” Roger huffed.

 

Jane looked between the two of them. “Roger, what does he mean by flashback?”

 

“Oh…I was getting dinner ready in the kitchen and got a little freaked out at holding the knife,” Roger shrugged, sinking more into himself. “I’m not crazy.”

 

“No one is saying you’re crazy,” Jane said calmly.

 

Roger sank further into the couch. “I know…I just feel a bit…it’s been a year and I still freeze up. I should be over it by now.”

 

“Rog,” Brian mumbled, and Roger turned away.

 

“There is no timeline on recovery. Sometimes it comes in waves and this is not the only time it will spring up and surprise you,” Jane continued in her gentle voice. “It must have been scary.”

 

Brian stared at Roger, watching as a series of expressions flashed across his face. There were a million things he wanted to say but he held his tongue, unwilling to say something to scare his boyfriend into silence.

 

“It shouldn’t be.”

 

“But it was.”

 

There was a beat of silence before Roger nodded. “The knife caught the light and I was suddenly there again. I felt him holding my neck and saw the knife slamming into me. It’s so fucking stupid. It’s so dumb. I’m fine and that son of a bitch is in prison for another seven years, give or take depending on if he gets parole.”

 

Jane nodded, her warm eyes watching him. “It’s not stupid or dumb. It’s your process. Tell my why you haven’t gone to therapy yet.”

 

“I’m not crazy,” Roger said slowly.

 

“Neither am I but I’m here once a week,” Brian added in and Roger flinched. “I couldn’t sleep Rog. I kept dreaming about it and it was too much. I was having panic attacks and…I needed help. I think you do too.”

 

Roger finally looked up, sighing. “What the point? Talking about it doesn’t make it disappear.”

 

“You’re right,” Jane nodded. “This horrible thing that happened to you is always going to be part of you. Nothing is going to change that. My job is to help you be in control of it, not the other way around.”

 

Roger chewed on his cuticles. “What if it doesn’t work?”

 

“You’re not unfixable,” Jane gave him another smile. “It’ll take time, and it will be hard, but you can do this. Post traumatic stress disorder is real and it is a treatable condition.”

 

“You’re not alone Roger,” Brian whispered. “It’s okay to still need help. It’s okay to always need help.”

 

Roger glanced at Brian and reached across the couch to take his hand. He could sense the nervousness in his touch and squeezed back just as tight. He desperately wanted Roger to be okay. He wanted him to be able to sleep through the night and not freeze at sudden movements. He wanted them to be normal.

 

“I’m sorry you struggle because of me,” Roger finally breathed.

 

“I’d rather struggle with your recovery than mourn your death,” Brian traced his thumb over the back of Roger’s hand. “Every day I’m so, so grateful that I get to wake up next to you. I just want you to be happy.”

 

Roger blinked a few times. “I don’t want to come by myself.”

 

“Okay!” Brian nodded furiously and Roger relaxed fully. “So, you’ll come here with me? You’ll get help with me?”

 

“I will,” Roger laughed at Brian’s eagerness.

 

They had gotten so far together. They had started their recovery as a partnership, and they would continue recovering together. But, Brian knew that they couldn’t do this on their own. They both needed help and he felt no shame in reaching out and getting it.  

 

It was a step in the right direction.


	27. Chapter 27

For a good few seconds Roger wasn’t even sure what he was looking at.

 

He had been digging through Brian’s drawers, trying to find a particular shirt to go with his jacket, and his hand had brushed against something small and hard. Curiously, Roger pulled it out and found himself staring at a little black box.

 

Fingers trembling faintly, Roger opened the box and his breathing hitched. Inside lay a thin gold band with some kind of jagged pattern etched into it. Along the raised sides were a line of tiny sapphires. It was different, interesting, and completely beautiful.

 

But why would Brian have it?

 

He knew why Brian would have hidden a ring box in the very back of his drawers but he didn’t really want to get too hopeful. It wasn’t like they could legally get married anyway but the thought of just wearing Brian’s ring sent a pleasant thrill down his spine.

 

“Rog?” Brian’s voice startled him and he practically threw it into the drawer, covering it up with a few shirts before slamming it shut.

 

“I’m in here!” He called out, hurrying to his own dresser. Brian poked his head in and raised his eyebrows.

 

“It’s taking you forever,” Brian pouted a bit as he pulled on a random shirt. “We’re going to be late!”

 

“Fine, fine, fine,” Roger followed him out of the room, heart pounding in his chest.

 

After that day he became almost hyperaware. Roger held his breath every time they went out for dinner, took a walk or even just spent time together. He tried to look out for the telltale sign of a box in his pocket.

 

Nothing.

 

Roger liked to think he was patient (he wasn’t). He liked to think he could wait (he couldn’t). He liked to think he would let Brian do what he needed to do (he wouldn’t).

 

So, a month after finding the ring he marched himself down to a little boutique jewelry store and bought a ring of his own. As soon as the saleswoman told him that the ring was inlayed with meteorite he didn’t need to hear anymore. The box in his pocket felt like a victory and he smiled to himself the whole walk home.

 

Maybe engagements shouldn’t be a competition but Roger always did like to win.

 

He had it planned out perfectly. Reservations had been made at Brian’s favorite vegetarian restaurant and then they would take a walk through campus and go to the audition room where they met. He would get down on one knee and say the speech that he had written and rewritten a thousand times.

 

_Brian, I wouldn’t be here if not for you. You are the reason I am alive, the reason I am living, and the reason I want to continue living. You make me a better person and you make the whole world brighter. I don’t want to go one day more without you by my side. Will you marry me?_

He couldn’t wait.

 

The day before his planned proposal he was on top of the world. Roger felt the rush that usually only came before a big show. It was a familiar sort of anxiety, one he relied on for his best performance. He could hardly help his excited grin as he lounged on the couch, watching television.

 

“Hey, Roger?” Brian called out from the direction of their bedroom. “Can you come in here for a minute?”

 

“Ugh, fine,” Roger whined but got to his feet and stretched lightly. He walked into the bedroom and then froze completely, heart jumping into his throat.

 

The curtains were drawn but there was plenty of light. Candles covered almost every surface, bathing the room in a warm light. Little glow in the dark stars were plastered all over the ceiling and Brian was kneeling in the middle of the room, a nervous smile on his face.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Come here,” Brian laughed and extended a hand. “I have to ask you a question.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, are you joking?” Roger blurted out and Brian’s face fell.

 

“…what?”

 

He sounded so heartbroken that Roger instantly felt guilty. “That’s not what I meant. Just…wait a second.”

 

He walked past a clearly confused Brian and dug through his own sock drawer. Understanding bloomed in Brian’s eyes and he let out a sigh of relief when Roger sheepishly held up his own little box.

 

“I found yours a while ago,” he admitted and knelt in front of Brian as well. “And I wanted to do it first.”

 

“You bloody idiot,” Brian laughed loudly, eyes sparkling with happy tears. “Well, go on. You wanted to ask so badly.”

 

“You’ve sucked all the romance out of it!” Roger shook his head fondly but opened the box, loving the way Brian’s eyes went soft. “So the speech will sound silly now. Anyway, Brian…I love you and I want to love you forever. Will you marry me?”

 

“Of course you moron,” Brian was grinning so brightly and his hands trembled faintly as Roger slid the ring on his finger. “Okay, my turn.”

 

“If you must,” Roger nodded furiously.

 

“Roger,” Brian sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and over the years I only love you more. You drive me insane but I can’t imagine a life without you. You are the strongest, bravest, most amazing person I have ever met. Will you marry me?”

 

“Yes!” Roger bounced a bit on his knees, grinning as the ring was put on his finger as well. “It’s beautiful.”

 

“The…the squiggle is the sound wave from a song I wrote,” a blush rose on his cheeks.

 

“Which song?” Roger admired the ring. “It better be I’m in Love With My Car.”

 

“It’s not,” Brian rolled his eyes.

 

“I swear to God I’ll give it back if it’s from Fat Bottomed Girls. It’s that line about blue eyed floozies right?” Roger gave him a mock glare.

 

“No one has heard it yet!” Brian laughed. “But I wrote it for you.”

 

Roger smiled, felt like he could never stop smiling, and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his lips. They couldn’t legally get married, they would never officially be husbands, but that didn’t matter. They had each other’s rings and each other’s hearts.

 

“This was nothing like I had planned it,” Brian finally mumbled against his lips. “Were you really going to propose just so you could do it first?”

 

“You were taking too long,” Roger chuckled, kissing him again.

 

They pressed their foreheads together, fingers intertwined. Roger couldn’t remember a time he felt so happy. It was like every single one of his dreams had come true. He couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment than this one.

 

“Will you sing me the line?” He finally whispered.

 

“It’s pretty new still, I’m still working out some parts,” Brian cleared his throat and started to sing softly. “Take heart my friend we love you, though it seems like you’re alone, a million lights above you, smile down upon your home.”

 

“Brian May, you romantic sod,” Roger kissed him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian's Ring: https://jewelrybyjohan.com/collections/mens-wedding-bands/products/gibeon-meteorite-ring-ti-3013


	28. Chapter 28

“What. The. Fuck. Is. That?” Freddie grabbed Brian’s hand, gaping at the shining band around his finger. He yanked his hand towards John, flapping his hand towards it. “John! Look!”

 

“I can see,” John chuckled. “Did you notice Rog has one too?”

 

Freddie let out a squawking sound and spun around to snatch Roger’s hand as well. “Tell me why you both have rings _right fucking now._ ”

 

They gave each other shy smiles and Brian shrugged. “I knew that Roger was my forever and it felt like a natural step.”

 

“Aw,” Roger gave him those starry eyes and stood on his tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. They locked eyes and smiled dopily at each other. Freddie cooed and swayed dramatically into John getting an eyeroll from the younger man.

 

“Not to be a downer or anything but…how are you doing this? It isn’t legal,” John looked a bit sorry that he even brought it up. “It’s a beautiful gesture and all though.”

 

“It’s not just a gesture,” Roger wove their fingers together. “A stupid little piece of paper and some judge agreeing that we can doesn’t make a marriage. We love each other, maybe we want to declare that in front of other people and celebrate the beginning of our family.”

 

Brian beamed at the mention of family.

 

“Oh darlings, we are going to plan the most amazing party!” Freddie clapped his hands together, a huge grin on his face. “We’re have no less than three different cakes. There will be doves and butterflies released…or will the doves eat the butterflies…it doesn’t matter. How do you both feel about ice sculptures?”

 

Roger leaned into Brian’s side, smiling at his friend’s antics, and Roger felt like his heart would just about burst.

 

In that moment there was no fear, no pain and no panic. There was no twisted past they had to remember. There was only their beautiful future to look forward to.

 

Things continued in much the same way for the next couple of weeks. They basked in the glow of their engagement, spending every second together. They watched television curled up in each other’s arms, cooked together in the kitchen, and slow danced late at night while tipsy on too much wine.

 

Everything was perfect.

 

Well, until he woke up a few days later.

 

His eyes fluttered open and he felt a bit dazed, confused at the still dark sky outside their window. Roger still slept at his side but as he tried to turn his head to face him he realized he couldn’t move.

 

Panic sparked in his chest when he tried to move his arms and nothing happened. Brian felt himself choke a bit on his own breath and tears sprung to his eyes at the growing, intense pressure building in his chest. He wanted so badly to reach out, to touch Roger and ground himself but he couldn’t.

 

“Brian?” Roger’s sleepy voice broke the dam and twin tears spilled down the sides of his cheeks. Scared, half asleep blue eyes suddenly appeared in his vision and Roger gently cupped his cheek. “Brian? What’s wrong?”

 

He couldn’t answer. A strangled whine managed to push past his lips but he couldn’t say anything. The sleepiness vanished from Roger’s face and was replaced with pure terror. He sat up fully and his fingers tightened on Brian’s chin.

 

“Bri? Come on, talk to me,” he sounded frantic.

 

A faint twitching in his fingers felt like an incredible relief but Roger seemed nearly panicked. He was pressing nervous touches to various parts of his body before springing up to his feet.

 

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he announced, stumbling a bit as the sheets tangled around his feet.

 

Brian was able to move his toes now and forced a word out of his throat. “Noooo.”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Roger spun around, unable to orientate himself in his near hysteria.

 

Then, it was like a string had been snapped. The pressure vanished and he was able to gulp in a deep breath of air. Roger jumped and gasped as he sat up, hands pressing to his chest. His body shook terribly, and Brian squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“Jesus Brian,” Roger practically flung himself on the bed, taking his face in his hands. “What the fuck was that?”

 

He shook his head weakly, still trying to catch his breath. “I…it…I’m fine.”

 

“You’re not fucking fine!” Roger snapped.

 

“S-s-sleep par…paralysis,” he managed to choke out and opened his eyes to see Roger leaning in too close. “It’s fine.”

 

The blond gaped at him and then wrapped his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I don’t get it.”

 

“It’s fine Rog,” he wrapped weakened, shaky arms around him too. His breathing had somewhat stabilized and now he just felt exhausted. “It’s okay. It happened a lot when I…when I was a kid. It’s scary but I’m okay.”

 

Roger pulled back and he felt overwhelmingly guilty at the tears in his fiance’s eyes. “That scared the shit out of me.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he sagged into his hold.

 

“What causes it?” Roger kept his hands on Brian, as if he was scared to let go. “You’ve never done it before.”

 

Brian turned his hand over and smiled slightly when Roger automatically took it. There was still a touch of tightness in his chest, but the lingering effects were slipping away. “Sometimes nothing. The…it could be adjusting to a normal sleep schedule after the tour or stress. It happened a bit when I first started uni but then…I got on antidepressants and it stopped…”

 

“You were on antidepressants?” Roger leaned back. “Are you depressed now?”

 

His eyes drooped slightly and he sighed, leaning back into the pillows. “Maybe…I don’t know. Can we talk about this in the morning?”

 

There was half a beat of silence before Roger shook his head. “No…no we can’t. You woke up looking like you were scared half out of your mind and not breathing. Then, you tell me that you might be depressed? How the hell can you not know?”

 

Brian knew that Roger didn’t mean to snap, that he was just scared, but it still stung a bit. “I’ve had depression my whole life. Some days it’s fine and some days it’s really not. It creeps up and…it’s not just a switch that’s flipped.”

 

“This didn’t happen after I was…in the hospital.”

 

“It did,” Brian mumbled, staring down at his hands. “I was scared to go to sleep for a while but then it got better. It came in waves and this is just one of those downward times.”

 

“So…I’m making you depressed,” Roger whispered, eyes wide and hurt.

 

“No,” Brian shook his head. “Almost losing you made me depressed. Realizing how much I was going to lose the person I loved most made me depressed. The stress and strain of the tour made me depressed. The fucking chemistry in my brain made me depressed. It’s not your fault. It’s just part of me.”

 

Roger frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

 

“I can’t really explain it…but, love, it’s not you. You make me so, so happy,” he hesitated, not sure how to continue. “It’s just my fucked up brain.”

 

Roger stared at him for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing his forehead. “Your brain is not fucked up.”

 

“Thanks,” Brian rolled his eyes but smiled.

 

“If…if you go to sleep will you have another episode?” Roger lay down next to him, resting a hand over his chest.

 

“I doubt it,” Brian could barely keep his eyes open.

 

“Okay. So, go to sleep,” Roger snuggled in closer, his warm hand burning pleasantly into Brian’s chest. He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

 

Waking up to comfortably warm sunshine pouring into the window was much better than waking up to the raw panic he felt before. Brian blinked his eyes open and focused on Roger sitting up in bed reading a book. His glasses were perched on his nose and a graceful finger traced the words.

 

“Hey,” his voice cracked and Roger glanced at him.

 

“Why hi sleepy head,” he chuckled. “You’ve been sleeping forever.”

 

“I’m sleepy,” Roger laughed as Brian stretched out like a cat. “What are you doing?”

 

“Woke up early and called Miami to go to the library and get me some books. I decided to get some reading done,” Roger reached up to comb his fingers through Brian’s curls. “He’s bringing me some journals later too so that’s my plan for the rest of the weekend.”

 

Brian glanced at the book title, _A Study of Psychological Disorders,_ and felt something warm spread in his chest. “How early did you call Miami?”

 

“Like…four? He wasn’t happy but I couldn’t sleep. He got them here though, we should really pay him more,” Roger smiled slightly.

 

Brian lay back down, closing his eyes and relaxing to the feeling of Roger’s fingers scratching along his scalp.


	29. Chapter 29

The wedding wasn’t the blowout Freddie had wanted it to be.

 

There weren’t white horses. There wasn’t a live orchestra. There wasn’t a ten course meal with chocolates stamped with the guest’s monogram on them between every meal. It was, however, perfect.

 

They hadn’t even planned out a specific date or sent out any kind of invitation. One day Brian just woke up, looked at a sleep rumpled Roger who was squinting at his alarm clock, and made the decision.

 

“I want to call you my husband today,” he whispered and got raised eyebrows in response.

 

“What?”

 

“Today,” Brian reached over to brush frizzy hair out of Roger’s face. “Let’s get married today.”

 

A few phone calls to friends and family and it was decided. Freddie rang a contact at his favorite floral shop and came with tons of flowers. John appeared with a cake he had picked up at a nearby bakery and a few boxes of pizza, smiling sheepishly when Freddie scoffed.

 

It was rushed, nothing matched, and their furniture was messily shoved to the side.

 

It was perfect.

 

“See! I knew that would be a good choice!” Freddie beamed at Brian through the mirror. “And look at you! A man in love who is getting married today!”

 

Brian felt his cheeks burn with a blush and looked down at his feet. This wedding wouldn’t be finished with a legally signed marriage license or with them taking each other’s last names. It would end however, with them declaring their love to each other in front of the people they loved the most.

 

“You don’t think it’s too much?” he turned slightly to look at himself from a different angle. The suit that Freddie had brought him was a black velvet suit with a brooch pinned to his breast pocket. It wasn’t something he would have usually picked out, but he had to admit that Freddie had wonderful taste.

 

“Too much,” Freddie rolled his eyes. “Like there’s such a thing as too much.”

 

A hand smoothed down his jacket and Freddie hummed. The ring on his finger was heavy in the best way possible, reminding him of the weight of the promise he was about to make to Roger. It was equally the hardest and easiest thing he had ever done.

 

“I’m ready,” Brian shook out his hands and followed Freddie into the living room.

 

Their flat looked like a bizarre mix of a children’s birthday party and a classy event. Miami beamed at him, dressed in his nicest suit. A few other friends sat in the mismatched chairs. Their roadies and stagehands that followed them around the world, who had been there every step of the way.

 

Their family was here.

 

Roger leaned lightly against the kitchen counter; glass of red wine held loosely in his hand as he laughed at a joke. The younger man was dressed in a fitted silver suit, black shirt contrasting beautifully. _He was beautiful._

“Why hello,” Roger’s eyes went soft and warm as he grinned goofily at Brian. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Brian’s waist. Gentle fingers caressed the soft fabric and Roger smiled up at him.

 

“Hello to you,” Brian leaned in for a kiss and rolled his eyes as Roger pulled back, tsking.

 

“The only person I will kiss on my wedding day is my husband,” Roger smirked. “But I would love to kiss my husband if you want to hurry it up and marry me.”

 

“You have heard that patience is a virtue, right?” Brian teased and got a huff in response.

 

“So is chastity but you seemed to have forgotten about that last night…and this morning,” the sly grin stretched even farther as Brian rolled his eyes.

 

“You are an idiot.”

 

“An idiot you are going to marry!” Roger hopped a bit on his feet, grabbing Brian’s hands and pulling him to the middle of their living room. He turned and clapped his hands, getting the attention of their guests. “Alright, let’s get this part done so we can party eh?”

 

A cheer rose up and Roger turned to take his hands. They had decided against an officiant, wanting it to just be them two. Their guests quieted down and Brian glanced around. John and Veronica were snuggled on the couch, smiling warmly at them. Freddie had his hands clasped in front of his mouth and kept bumping his shoulder into Miami’s making their manager roll his eyes goodnaturedly.

 

“Do you want to start or should I?” Roger cocked his head to the side and Brian burst out laughing.

 

“We maybe should have planned this out better,” Brian teased. “Or planned it out at all.”

 

“Eh, planning is boring,” Roger rolled his eyes and took both of Brian’s hands in his own. “How about I do my vows and then you and then we’re married?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” a chuckle rose from around the crowd.

 

“Okay,” Roger bounced a bit on his toes, a nervous habit he had picked up years ago. “So…Brian…I figure if you can still want to be with me after all this craziness then I would be stupid to let you go.”

 

He fell into silence and Brian raised his eyebrows. “That’s it?”

 

“No, give me a minute,” Roger huffed, fixing the taller man with a glare. Then he sucked in a short breath and closed his eyes for a moment. His eyes fluttered open and the look in the stole Brian’s breath away. “Do you remember the first time you kissed me? We were sitting outside looking at the stars at the farm. I…I don’t like to think about those times all that much. They’re dark and terrifying and…they weren’t good. But you were the light in those times.

 

You helped me see that I was more than what happened to me. You made me believe that I could have a life again. You made me see that…someone could love me even after everything and…damn, I feel so fucking lucky that you chose to love me. Thank you for loving me.”

 

An incredible tightness pulled at Brian’s chest and he blinked back tears. God, how he loved the man standing in front of him.

 

“It isn’t hard…loving you,” Brian’s voice cracked and tears made Roger’s eyes particularly sparkly. “It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I remember that night looking at the stars. I remember thinking they didn’t even compare to how beautiful you were.

 

You are the single bravest, kindest, most…completely wonderful person I know. You taught me courage. You taught me strength. You know in weddings they always say for better or worse? Love, we’ve been through our worst. The better parts are just getting here and I can’t wait to spend every single one of them with you. You are the love of my life. You are the best part of me.”

 

He didn’t even realize tears were running down his cheeks until Roger reached up to brush them away.

 

“So, do we pronounce ourselves or…” Roger asked, voice thick with happy tears.

 

“Oooh! Can I? Can I?” Freddie called out, his own face wet with tears. When Brian nodded he clapped his hands. “Brian, do you take Roger to be your husband, through bitch fits and off rhythm drumming?”

 

“Of course I do,” Brian shook his head as Roger gasped in mock outrage.

 

“And Roger, do you take Roger to be your husband, through ignoring you while reading boring books and far too much hair product?”

 

“I do,” Roger squeezed his hands.

 

“Then kiss already you old married couple!” He cried out and Brian leaned forward, cutting off Roger’s laugh with his own lips.

 

Husbands.


	30. Chapter 30

Brian hadn’t known that he could be this happy.

 

Preforming in shows and appearing in interviews had always been fun but it was a whole new experiencing doing it with his _husband._ He got to admire how the light sparkled off of Roger’s ring when his drumsticks flew across the kit. His eyes would move up to meet Roger’s knowing smirk and wink. They were amazing together, playing off of each other’s strengths, and Queen became something amazing. The most amazing part of all of it was how Roger changed.

 

He was more outspoken in interviews, not shying away from questions about the attack.

 

He cut his hair, even though the end of a scar peeked out from the collar of his shirt.

 

He went back to wearing open shirts, his scars on display, but he stopped trying to hide them.

 

Damn, Brian was so incredibly proud of him.

 

Touring was a dream come true but he still loved the little domestic moments between them. He loved watching as Roger bopped around the kitchen, throwing together a pasta dish while he sang along to an Elvis album. The shirt he was wearing was Brian and he thought it looked adorable on him, collar dipping down his sharp shoulder.

 

A soft knock on the front door broke his concentration and he rolled his eyes as Roger waggled his eyebrows and shimmied his shoulders, waving his husband towards the door. Their mail carrier looked exhausted as always and thrust out a large bundle of letters to him, not even waiting for Brian to even greet him before he shuffled on to the next flat.

 

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he sang out, rifling through the notes. Their fanmail was collected at the record lable office so most of it was advertisements and bills. He shuffled through most of the letters before finding one with Roger’s name written in careful block letters. “Oh, you got something!”

 

“Read it to me,” Roger called from the stove, stirring the sauce he was so focused on.

 

The envelope opened easily and he pulled out the letter, unfolding it. “My dearest sunshine…”

 

His voice trailed off and Roger went completely, entirely still. It was like time had stopped. For a moment Roger looked so much like that lost young man from years before and Brian’s heart clenched.

 

“Keep reading.”

 

“Roger,” Brian shook his head and was fixed by a blank stare. “Fine. It says, ‘It has been six years since I first laid eyes on you and it feels like hardly a breath of time has passed since that time. We got to see one of your concerts on the television during our recreation time and I’m not ashamed to admit that I cried like a baby. You were flawless my love. You just shone with an indescribable light. I’ve been writing letters to you since the moment they closed the bars behind me but I haven’t sent them. The memory of your face during the trial made me pause. I can’t believe I hurt…’ Roger this is too much.”

 

Roger turned on his heel and leaned against the counter, eyes sharp. “Keep reading. I want to hear the rest of it.”

 

Brian scowled but turned his attention back to the hated letter in his hands. “Fucking fine. Um…’I can’t believe that I hurt you that much. You truly hated me in that moment and it was like a knife to my own heart. I hope one day I am worthy of your forgiveness.”

 

“Not fucking likely,” Roger scowled.

 

“’I hope one day to hear of your forgiveness. My parole is up next week. I’ve gotten some time taken off for good behavior, see I can change! I’ll leave you to live the rest of your life in peace. I pray that we are still able to be together in the afterlife as I know that we are destined to be together. I’ll see you again in death and that is enough to bring peace to my heart. Yours in eternity, Nate,’” The letter felt horrifyingly heavy in his grip and he let it flutter to the countertop.

 

“Hmm,” Roger leaned back and then turned back to his pan. “So, do you think spinach or broccoli? Maybe even both?”

 

Brian stared at him for a moment. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“For the pasta? What veggie do you want in it?” Roger didn’t turn but Brian could see the firm set of his shoulders.

 

“Christ Roger, he’s still-“

 

“I know exactly what the fuck it said!” Roger threw the spoon into the pot visciously, making red sauce splash everywhere. For one sickening moment Brian thought it looked like blood and he had to swallow around the nausea rising in his through. “I know exactly what he said but I’m fucking _done_ with this bullshit. The police assured me that I’ll have a restraining order but I’m not going to spend the rest of my fucking life looking over my shoulder. I’m not worried.”

 

“You might not be but I fucking am!” Brian snapped back and Roger sighed, keeping his back towards him. “Why the hell would you ask me to keep reading that letter if you’re just going to brush it off?”

 

“I’m not…” Roger let out a long sigh and blew a short breath out. “What do you want me to do Bri? If I ignore the letter you get mad, if I ask you to read it you get mad. I’m not going to let him scare me anymore. He can tell me whatever the hell he wants and it won’t matter.”

 

“So you’re just…testing yourself? Is this some kind of masocistic bullshit or something? Like standing on the edge of a cliff and telling everyone that you aren’t scared?”

 

“We’re not talking about this.”

 

“Yes we are!” Brian stepped forward and was suddenly met by blue eyes blazing with fury.

 

“No. We. Aren’t,” Roger fixed him with such an intense glare that Brian shrank back a bit. “Are we really going to spend the rest of our lives like this? I refuse to.”

 

“Rog-“

 

“Oh come on Brian, I want to be happy and I want to be happy with you. If he’s in our lives he’s going to be a…bruise on our relationship,” he waved his hand lightly. “You’re my husband, you have to support me on this.”

 

Brian pursed his lips at that, having to physically stop himself from blurting out what he really thought. He wanted to be proud of Roger for his bravery. He wanted to be proud of him for moving on but he had some sort of mental block. Maybe _he_ was the one who couldn’t move on and it just wasn’t fair of him to keep reminding Roger of the trauma he was so determined to forget.

 

“I’m sorry,” he let out in a sigh and the sparkle he loved so much returned to Roger’s eyes.

 

“You better be,” he said brightly, turning around to look at the pot again. “But you can make it up to me later. Now, what veggie do you want?”

 

“Broccoli,” Brian carefully ripped the letter in half and shoved it as far down the trashcan as possible. It wouldn’t be the last letter. This would always be something that would hover over them menecingly. They just had to choose how to react to it.

 

It seemed like Roger just wanted to treat them like what they were; the words of a crazy person scribbled on a piece of paper. They were just words, just a string of letters put together that couldn’t hurt them.

 

That’s what they had thought before as well.

 

Brian tried to change his mind. He had tried to come around to Roger’s indifference but everytime he saw one of those letters in the mail his heartrate would spike and he would break out into a cold sweat. He knew what those words meant and they weren’t so innocent.

 

He did have one thing to thank Godfrey for though. They would have never known he was getting out on probation if he hadn’t written.

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Brussels was one of Brian’s favorite cities.

 

They were on their fifth month of touring and had been through the United States, Canada, Zurich, Paris, Germany, The Netherlands and part of England so far. A few months and many more countries were on the horizon, but it was still so exciting. He loved exploring cities and seeing the incredible crowds cheering for them.

 

He loved doing it with his husband by his side.

 

Roger shone during their shows, playing for the crowd like his life depended on it. He spoke eloquently to the reporters even though almost every question pitched towards him was about the attack. His growing confidence was obvious in the way his straightened up and lifted his chin, a smirk on his face.

 

_“That was six years ago. I don’t even think about it anymore.”_

It had been six years. That in of itself was enough to make Brian pause. They were in their thirties now and the scars had faded to faint silver lines. Still, as much as he hated it, Brian would wake up or be waken up by twisted nightmares. They were less frequent than in years past but still shook them to the core, keeping them awake throughout the night as they held each other through visions of monsters in the shadows.

 

Despite all that everything was perfect.

 

Their album had reached number one in the United Kingdom, United States and the Netherlands. Those announcements still made his heart jump in his chest like that first time. This was the life he had always dreamed of but never imagined he’d be lucky enough to have.

 

The day before their concert was one of their rare nights off. Freddie had gone with some of the roadies to explore some of the nightclubs and John had been lucky enough to get Veronica and the children to come with him, so he was making it a family night. Roger had been grabbed by a local media outlet to do an interview and he jumped at the chance, giving his husband a kiss on the cheek and leaving him on his own to have a relaxing evening.

 

After months of nonstop tours and nights out it was so nice to lay in their bed with a good book and glass of wine. Brian stretched his feet out, wiggling his toes a bit when his feet cramped up a bit but he didn’t look away from the book.

 

The front door opened, and he called out without looking up. “Rog? That you love?”

 

Nothing.

 

Brian rolled his eyes and finally looked up, glaring at the shut door of their bedroom. “Roger? You still on a high from all that attention?”

 

That would have at least gotten a laugh. Anxiety settled in Brian’s stomach and he quickly put a bookmark in his book, placing it on the bedside table. Had something happened at the interview? Had they focused too much on the attack? Roger hadn’t been able to even speak about it for so long and sometimes the interviewers would be relentless.

 

“Roger? You okay? How was the interview?” He walked to the door, expecting to see a pissed off Roger on the other side.

 

Instead, he found himself eye to eye with Nathan Godfrey.

 

They both stood in the doorway, staring at each other. Brian felt like everything had turned to white static, the world sank down to white snow and buzzing. The surprise put him at an incredible disadvantage as Godfrey reached up, snarled his fingers in his curls, and slammed his head into the doorjamb three times.

 

By the time Godfrey released his hair his ears were ringing, and he slumped against the door, feeling dazed. Cold eyes glared down at him and a foot slammed into his ribs and stomach a few times. Brian tried to fight, he really did. He tried to punch and struggle but then Godfrey kicked him onto his back and he felt a cold circle pressed against his forehead.

 

“Stop fighting,” he went nearly cross eyed and stared down the barrel of the gun to Godfrey’s icy glare.

 

“You’re here to kill me,” Brian couldn’t even be embarrassed about the way his voice came out high pitched and scared.

 

“That’s up to Roger,” Godfrey pushed a bit harder and Brian winced. “Move back…put your back against the bedframe.”

 

For one hysterical moment, Brian thought about refusing. Then he thought about what it would do to Roger if he came back and found his cold, dead body. Shakily, Brian scooted back until he was pressed against the frame of the bed. Godfrey reached into his back pocket and threw a set of handcuffs at him, gruffly commanding him to cuff himself to the bed.

 

Brian felt sick as he closed the handcuffs around the leg of the bed and then around his wrist. What if the roles had been reversed? What if Roger was the one getting cuffed to a bed with a gun trained on him?

 

A shiver ran down his spine and he looked down, avoiding eye contact. Godfrey mumbled to himself and paced back and forth, gun held in a shaky hand. A horribly awkward silence followed before Brian just had to break it.

 

“Why are you doing this?” He finally whispered and Godfrey jumped. “They let you out of jail. You could have gotten your life back on track.”

 

“You don’t get it,” Godfrey shook his head. “No one does.”

 

“Get what? Falling in love with Roger? Oh, I get that all too well,” he felt brave in a terrifying way. “But he’s a grown man and he can make his own decisions. He chose me because I treat him like a person, not an object. It’s okay…just give me the key to the handcuffs and leave.”

 

Godfrey shook his head again, eyes wild. “No.”

 

“What do you expect will happen?” Brian snapped, wincing when the gun was trained on him again.

 

“I expect him to be upset,” the gun shook in his hand. “I expect him to be mad. He’s such a hothead you know? But…I’m counting on you convincing him to come with me.”

 

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

 

“Because I’ll kill you if he won’t come with me,” the decisiveness of that statement made Brian’s blood turn to ice. “It’s that simple.”

 

Brian gaped at him. “Why the hell would you go with him? You nearly stabbed him to death! Why would you think he would possibly come with you?”

 

“Because he…because he loves you,” Godfrey’s face crumbled at that. “Because he loves you and that’s why he’s going to come with me. It’ll be okay. He’ll be upset and sad in the beginning but then he’ll see how much I care for him. I’ll take time but he’ll come around.”

 

“So, plan A was killing him, and plan B is brainwashing him,” Brain grumbled.

 

Godfrey sighed and slumped into the armchair in the corner of the room, gun balanced on his knee. He rubbed at his face and Brian watched, praying that maybe he had seen the light. Maybe he would let Brian out and leave and this would all just be a crazy story.

 

“I’m doing this all wrong,” Godfrey whimpered out.

 

“Yeah, no argument here.”

 

Godfrey’s head dropped forward, and tears glittered in his eyes. “He just makes me crazy, you know? I tried to move on. I tried dating after we met but I couldn’t. I tried my best to talk to him, get to know him, but everything got in our way. I…I just know we could be happy together if he gave me a chance.”

 

Brian bit his tongue, every word he wanted to say burning his mouth. He wanted to scream at the madman and curse at him. He wanted to tell him that he was insane, and Roger would never, ever be with him.

 

But he also wanted to not end up bleeding out in a damn hotel in Brussels.

 

“What would you even do with him if he went with you?” Brian tried and Godfrey perked up, clearly thinking he had a change of heart. A wide, blissed out smile spread across his face and Brian clenched his jaw.

 

“I’d love him,” he sighed, clearly slipping into some fantasy that he had created for himself. “I know he’d be angry, and he’d be stubborn. He might fight but I’m patient. I’d hold him when he cried and listen when he shouted. What I did before was wrong. I don’t want him dead, I don’t! I just didn’t see any other way. Then you came and talked to me and I realized…he’s just a man. He’s a man that I can be with here. I mean…you got him. He chose you…he can change his mind.”

 

He went quiet for a minute, staring blankly ahead. Then, he blinked a few times and sighed. “He’ll understand why I did what I did. He’ll understand how much I love him. I’d help him get over you and then he’ll see. He’ll see that I’ll treat him right. I’ll worship him. I’ll…I’ll hold him so tight and kiss him so deep. I’ll make him…feel pleasure he never has before…sorry, that was probably too graphic.”

 

Brian’s chest felt tight. Blood had spilled from a cut on his forehead and dripped into his eye, making him blink furiously. The bruises from their struggle earlier started to ache but nothing hurt worse than hearing this man ramble about touching _his husband._

 

“You have nothing to say?” Godfrey stared at him with his terrible pale eyes.

 

“What do you want me to say?” Brian whispered.

 

Godfrey just watched him, and Brian grew sick realizing that they were just waiting for Roger to get back, to make the decision Godfrey thought he still might have to make. He let his head fall back with a thud, staring blankly at the open door in front of him.

 

Time passed by and Godfrey grew more and more anxious. His knee bounced rapidly, the gun moving up and down in a way that made Brian beyond nervous.

 

What if Roger agreed? What if that self-sacrificing idiot agreed with this insane man? Would Brian have to scream for help until someone came in to let him go? Would they have to look for Roger knowing that he was being practically held prisoner? Would they ever find him, or would he be kept hostage by a man who thought he loved him?

 

Brian was jolted out of his hysterical thoughts by the sound of keys being put into the lock of the front door. He startled and opened his mouth, ready to scream at Roger to run.

 

“Don’t,” Godfrey hissed, jumping to his feet. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’ll shoot you and him both.”

 

His mouth snapped shut with a snap, fear making his skin prickle. Brian held his breath as Roger continued to struggle with the keys until he finally, finally got the door open.

 

“Christ Almighty,” Roger called out, clearly exacerbated. “With such a fucking expensive hotel you’d think the doors would be easy to open.”

 

He could hear Roger throw his coat on the floor, something Brian would usually harp on him about. His heart pounded painfully, mouth dry, as he listened to Roger rambling about the interview and wandering through the front room.

 

“Bri? Don’t tell me you fell asleep,” Roger’s teasing tone made tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

 

Roger stepped into the doorway, wide grin on his handsome face, and then he froze. His smile fell completely and horrified confusion took its place. A broken gasp escaped from his lips and then Roger _stupidly_ raced into the room.

 

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Roger fell to his knees, skidding partially through the carpet as his hands fluttered around Brian’s head. His eyes darted frantically from the bleeding cut on his forehead to the handcuffs keeping him in place. “What in-“

 

“You cut your hair,” Godfrey’s soft voice made the world stop spinning for a moment.

 

Roger’s entire body froze, eyes widening almost comically. He stared at Brian in blank horror, almost seeming to believe that if he looked away from him this monstrosity would be true. His fingers trembled against Brian’s temple and his chest started rising and falling rapidly.

 

“Bri,” Roger finally managed to whisper.

 

“No, you don’t talk to him,” Godfrey took a step closer and leveled the gun at Brian’s forehead. “You only talk to me.”


	32. Chapter 32

It was like time had completely stopped. 

 

Roger went terribly pale, his eyes wide and panic stricken but he didn’t look away from Brian. His fingers started shaking violently where they cupped his face. He wanted so badly to say something that would comfort him but the ever present threat of the gun kept him from even trying to open his mouth. 

 

“Why would you cut your hair?” Godfrey choked out, reaching forward to lightly brush his fingers through the fringe at the back of Roger’s neck. Roger closed his eyes tight at that. “It was so beautiful. Why would you cut it?”

 

“This can’t be happening,” Roger breathed and the hand tightened on the back of his neck. “Jesus Christ.”

 

“Why not sunshine?” There was a dangerous lilt to Godfrey’s voice. 

 

“There’s no fucking way that after six years you broke into my hotel room in fucking Brussels and hurt my husband,” Roger was angry, he could tell that much by the tight shake as he spoke but Godfrey was angry as well.

 

“...husband?” Godfrey whispered and then leaned down to grab Roger’s left hand. He yanked him back so that he tumbled onto his backside away from Brian. There was a short struggle before Roger seemed to remember the gun and then he paused. “Take the ring off.”

 

“No.”

 

“Take the fucking ring off!” Godfrey screamed, yanking Roger back further until he was practically dragging him on the carpet. “Take it off!”

 

“Fuck you!” Roger’s fear was replaced by panicked fury. 

 

Then he turned the gun back on Brian and dug the mouth of the gun into his temple. At that Roger let out a whimper and then shakily reached up to tug his ring off. 

 

“Please don’t hurt him,” Roger winced as Godfrey grabbed his ring and threw it as hard as he could across the room. The ring hit the wall with a  _ plink _ and rolled under the bed. It made Brian’s heart hurt as Roger watched helplessly. 

 

“I won’t,” Godfrey soothed, eyes overly bright. “If you come with me.”

 

Here it was. The moment Brian had been dreading. Roger’s mouth dropped open and the tears he had clearly been trying so hard to stop trickled over his cheeks. His now ringless hand pressed against his mouth in an attempt to keep in the sobs but his chest still rose and fell shakily. 

 

“And you swear you won’t hurt him?” Roger whispered out. 

 

“Don’t be fucking crazy!” Brian blurted out. “Don’t you dare Roger. Don’t-”

 

The slam of the butt of a gun into his temple silenced him and he blinked dazedly as more blood trickled down his face. Roger jumped and gasped, eyes widening further. He let out a weak whimper and more tears spilled over his cheeks. 

 

“If I say yes, if I go with you...you promise you won’t hurt him anymore?” Roger pleaded, eyes scared and posture stiff. “We can just...walk out right? You’ll leave him here so he can be helped.”

 

Godfrey nodded like Christmas had come early. “I promise.”

 

Then his hand curled around Roger’s thin wrist and pulled him up to standing. Roger still subconsciously pulled away from him a bit although Brian could tell that he was forcing himself to stay as still as he could. A wide smile spread across Godfrey’s face and the hand traveled slowly up Roger’s arm before his fingers spread possessively across the younger man’s collarbone.

 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten to touch you in years,” Godfrey whispered and Roger choked on a sob, closing his eyes. “And...my God, you’ve only gotten more beautiful. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

 

Brian felt tears running down his cheeks as well, watching as Godfrey lovingly started stroking Roger’s face. When his thumb traced along the blond’s lips Brian felt his entire body jerk, rattling the handcuffs.

 

“Open your eyes lovely,” Godfrey sighed and the gripped Roger’s face tightly when he didn’t obey immediately. “I have a knife too. If you don’t open your eyes he will lose his.”

 

Roger’s eyes snapped open instantly and more tears dripped off his chin. Godfrey cooed at him and moved to cup his cheek. He just stared at Roger for a disturbing length of time before he started leaning in. 

 

The blond jerked back so hard he managed to stumble out of Godfrey’s hold. The older man scowled and lifted the gun again, pointing at Brian’s thigh and firing. 

 

Brian’s first thought was that the gun must have had a silencer on it since it wasn’t as loud as he expected. His second thought was entirely consumed with raw, agonizing, white hot pain. A scream tore from his lips and his head cracked back against the footboard as his body spasmed. 

 

Distantly, he could hear Roger screaming as well. He could hear pleas and desperate begging before silence. He tried his best to open his eyes, pulling them apart despite wanting to slip into a hopefully painless dark, and saw Godfrey pulling Roger to him tightly.

 

The older man’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, gun pointed into his lower back, and he was practically devouring Roger’s lips. Broken, hoarse moans came from Godfrey even though Roger stood perfectly stiff, hands still clasped to his chest as if desperate not to touch. 

 

Godfrey pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, seemingly not worried about Roger’s shaky sobs. “That was better than all my dreams.”

 

“Please don’t hurt him again,” Roger gasped out. 

 

He could feel blood flowing out of the bullet hole in his leg but nothing was more painful than the way Roger looked so resigned. Godfrey didn’t even seem upset that he had just shot a man. He was so lost in being so close to Roger, lost in a fantasy.

 

“I won’t,” Godfrey whispered against his lips, kissing him again. “Shit, I should have just tried to kill him in the first place. We could have been doing this for years.”

 

Roger’s body sagged a bit, fine tremors running through him. “You promised.”

 

At that Godfrey’s eyes went dark and he turned to glare at Brian. “He’ll be a tether. He’ll always try to get you back and you’re too brainwashed not to go back to him. If I kill him then it’ll all be over. You’ll stay with me.”

 

His breath hitched in his chest. How fucking unhinged was the guy that he thought that was going to be an outcome? Did he honestly think Roger would happily follow him if Brian had a hole through his head?

 

“Oh no, no, no,” Roger gasped out, looking like he would hyperventilate. “I won’t! I won’t go back! Leave him alive and I’ll be with you, I promise.”

 

Godfrey finally looked away from Brian but his grip on the gun didn’t lessen. He nodded shortly and grabbed Roger’s wrist again, starting to pull him toward the door.

 

“Wait, wait,” Roger’s knees buckled slightly and his face crumpled with repressed tears. “Please let me say goodbye.”

 

“No.”

 

“Please!” Roger begged and Godfrey snapped again, he spun around and shoved Roger against the wall. The younger man hit the wall with a sick thunk and he sank down lightly before Godfrey sneered and grabbed him by the back of his neck.

 

And then everything went insane.

 

Roger used the leverage of the wall to shove himself backwards into Godfrey, making him drop the gun. They both didn’t even hesitated to drop to the floor and start struggling for it. Then they rolled slightly behind the bed and Brian couldn’t see what was happening. 

 

A gunshot went off and everything went quiet. 

 

Sharp, painful barbed breaths caught in Brian’s throat and he squeezed his eyes tight. Any moment now, Godfrey was going to step around his husband’s body and then shoot him right between the eyes. This was how everything was going to end, at the hands of a madman.

 

Instead, frantic quick fingers took hold of his chin and he managed to open his eyes to see Roger’s blue ones staring back at him. Roger was sobbing, huge breaths making his entire frame shake, but he pressed his hands hard into the wound at his leg. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept rambling, turning his full attention down to the still bleeding wound. “Jesus. Fuck. HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!” 

 

There was a moment of hesitation before Roger got to his feet and started banging on the wall, leaving bloody marks along the wallpaper. He screamed and begged and wailed, pounding against the wall to get any attention. 

 

“Jesus Christ!” John’s annoyed voice came from the front door. “What the hell movie are you both watching?”

 

“John!” Roger sprinted to the front door and Brian would have laughed if he could have. He could just imagine the sight of a ghostly pale Roger covered in blood scaring the life out of their bassist. 

 

But then the thought slipped out of his hand like sand through fingers.

 

Was this what Roger had felt laying on that concrete floor so many years ago? Had he felt the cold creep of death clawing its way through him? Did he feel like each breath was harder and harder to draw in? Did he have to listen to them crying and begging him to pay attention?

 

“I’m so sorry,” Roger choked out, holding his face in shaking hands. “I’m so sorry Brian.”

 

Vaguely, he could see John returning with a group of medics behind him. He knew what made John go so pale when he looked over on the other side of the bed but didn’t exactly want to imagine the body laying there. 

 

“Not your fault,” he sighed and Roger just cried harder. “I’ll be ‘kay.”

 

“Mmhmm,” Roger nodded, pressing a kiss to his hair. “You’ll be fine. Then we get to take a long, long vacation and you can boss me around all you want. Okay?”

 

He nodded, darkness creeping into his vision. Even if this was the end for him it would be alright. Godfrey couldn’t hurt Roger anymore. 

 

And with that thought he slipped under. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is NOT dead!
> 
> I think I'm going to finish off with a bit of an epilogue but the next chapter should be the last one!!


	33. Chapter 33

The cruelest thing about living with trauma was how many times he had to remember.

There would be times when Brian would wake up and be perfectly content. The warm sunbeam that landed perfectly across their bed made everything feel warm and dreamy. He could smell Roger’s stupid coconut shampoo and feel how soft his hair was against his cheek. The puff of air against his neck was soothing and then he would shift to get closer. 

The moment he moved pain would radiate up his leg and everything would come crashing back in vivid clarity. 

The agony of the bullet slicing through his leg.

The screams from Roger.

The moment he thought Roger had died. 

Short, heavy gasps would consume him and his eyes would snap open, desperate to ground himself in the present and not lose himself to the memories. He reached out a panicked hand and grasped at Roger’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey,” Roger’s sleepy voice, laced with fear, was a familiar sound now. “You’re okay love. You’re okay.”

Roger’s voice and his hand against Brian’s cheek anchored him. Through the storm of memories he was the one safe thing. Panicked gasps turned into shaking sobs and he fell into Roger completely, wrapping his arms around his husband’s slender frame. 

His hand shook as he snaked it down to press against the scarred leg, reminding himself that he didn’t still have a hole in his leg that leaked out his life blood. It had healed. They had healed. There was nothing left but lingering pain and nightmares. 

So why did it hit him this hard every time?

It was supposed to get easier. Roger had handled it with such grace and bravery and he was still here months later whimpering in the night like a child. Brian was so damn tired of being ripped back into that terrible place. 

“You’re here. You’re here with me,” Roger rocked him slightly, peppering his face with kisses and suddenly it was like he could breathe again.

“Shit, shit,” he gasped out, coughing tears out of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

 

Roger hummed and rubbed their cheeks together, knowing that he just needed the contact. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

He hated this. 

After Godfrey died Roger had never left his bedside. He hid the obvious trauma he had gone through to take care of Brian. He had learned everything he could about wound care and took him to every single appointment, physical therapy or psychiatrist. He was as supportive as could be and he never, ever talked about the hardships he had faced as well. 

“I’m sorry you have to baby me while you’re struggling too.”

“I’m fine,” Roger sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his back. 

And then all he felt was white hot anger. Brian logically knew that emotions like this were normal in the healing process but he still hated feeling so out of control. He jerked himself out of Roger’s arms and scowled at him. 

“Bullshit,” he spat, even more angry that Roger just looked tired. “You’re not fine. The fact that you say you’re fine is belittling my feelings and what we’re going through. How the hell can you just be okay after you-”

“Shot him?” Roger’s voice was so horribly voice of emotion that it made Brian freeze. “How can I be okay when the man who wanted to take me away to be a glorified sex slave died in front of me? How can I be okay when I pulled that trigger and looked into his fucking eyes?”

His breath left him in a shudder and his gaze went a bit far away.

“Rog...”

The blond pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

Tears burned in Brian’s eyes and he reached out to try and comfort him but Roger shook him off. 

“Helping you helps me,” he whispered, eyes locked somewhere near Brian’s pillow. “I forget all that shit when I’m focused on you.”

“That’s not healthy either. You can’t forget everything you need just because of me,” Brian sighed. “You need help just like me.”

“So now what?” There was a tinge of almost hysteria to Roger’s voice. “We just keep doing this forever?”

Brian hated that idea. He hated the idea of cowering in their flat or flinching at every sound. He hated the idea of Roger ignoring his own hurts until it ate him up inside. He hated the idea that fucking Godfrey had ruined them.

For a moment he just closed his eyes and tried to think about the Roger he knew before all this mess happened. He remembered a young, enthusiastic, beautiful boy who lit up every room he stepped into. He remembered the way he would watch him longingly from across the stage, craving just a glimpse of his sunny smile.

And that part of Roger was still there. 

Roger still played music beautifully, he still cared for others, he still had that same wild enthusiasm. Not even Godfrey could dull his smile or break him. 

Maybe that was it. He had been so paranoid that Godfrey had ruined everything he hadn’t even tried to cling to what remained. Sure there had been loss and pain but good things still stayed.

Like when Roger remembered that he liked his cheese sandwich with little slices of peppered tomatoes on the side.

Like when Roger read him a review of their show and he almost couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard at the little voices he made. 

Like when Roger smiled softly at him like he was the only person on earth when he strummed his guitar lazily in bed.

The nightmares and flashbacks were horrendous, truly monstrous, but Godrey could have never destroyed them. Their love was strong, stronger than a sad old man with a knife, and nothing could shake it.

“Bri?” Roger sounded so sad that Brian leaned forward, kissing him sweetly. 

“I love you so much,” he breathed against his lips. “I would go through all of that again to be right here with you.”

A frown marred Roger’s handsome face. “Really?”

“Everything. All that pain, all that stress...everything if it meant that I could have this moment,” he smiled. “Sitting in bed with my husband who I love more than all the stars in the sky.”

Roger melted a bit at that. “You’re a sap.”

“And you’re beautiful,” Brian reached up to stroke his face. “Obviously I’m not happy about it and I wish we both could have done without...everything...but you’re worth it all. The rest of our lives are going to be worth it.”

“Like when we go on our next hundred tours?” Roger teased and Brian smiled. 

“Or when we are plastered all over the television,” he leaned into Roger’s gentle touch, feeling the fear and stress from before fade. “And when we do collaborations with super famous people.”

“Like who? The Beatles? David Bowie?” Roger laughed.

“Oh yes,” Brian settled back down on the pillows, pulling Roger into his arms. “Or when we are the biggest rock band in the universe. Or when we retire but not really because I know you love the spotlight.”

“Hey!”

“And we’ll retire somewhere in the country where we have lots of room for all your fancy cars and I can rehabilitate wildlife,” he hummed, eyes closing. “Imagine nothing but too expensive cars, hedgehogs and baby badgers.”

“And the sex, lots of sex in our big fancy house,” warm breath puffed against Brian’s chest and he grinned. 

“Obviously,” Brian gently kissed the top of his head. “I think I’m about to fall back asleep.”

“Good. I’ll be here when you wake up,” Roger’s voice was thick with sleep. 

He slowly let himself be lulled back to sleep by Roger’s soft breathing. The beautiful future they had painted together swirled in his head. Of course there would be nightmares and fear in that future but that seemed so unimportant compared to how amazing it was going to be.

As for that night, there wasn’t another nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! 
> 
> This has been such a fun story to write and you all have been so wonderful and supportive! Thank you for making this story so enjoyable to write. 
> 
> I hope I showed trauma in a realistic way. It isn't something that ever goes away or is cured when a hero swoops the victim off their feet. It is messy and it lingers. I wanted to show how support and love helps so much. I hope I did our boys justice! 
> 
> Thank you again!


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